


Infection

by AbbyNormal1



Category: Original Work
Genre: Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Death, End of the World, F/M, Fear of Death, Gun Violence, Horror, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Infection, Inspired By 28 Days Later, POV Multiple, Recreational Drug Use, Survival Horror, Texas, Virus, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-10-29 03:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 40
Words: 99,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyNormal1/pseuds/AbbyNormal1
Summary: Evelyn Meyers, a shy and unassuming woman of 25, just found out that she's going to have a baby. She'd always dreamed of being a mother, playing pretend with her dolls all through her childhood, but the timing and circumstances couldn't be worse.Less than an hour later she finds out just how dire her situation is when the world around her erupts into sudden violence. People begin attacking and killing each other due to the emergence of a mysterious virus that somehow wipes out a large percentage of the population's minds of all but the most basic human instinct; kill or be killed.Now instead of worrying about picking out baby names or decorating a nursery for her soon-to-come bundle of joy, Evelyn is driven to fight for her and her child's life along with a diverse group of other immune survivors. Unfortunately they soon find out that the infected aren't the only ones to be feared.





	1. Chapter 1

~Prologue~

Frederick Hines was perhaps the happiest man on Earth. He had finally perfected his masterpiece; his long years of dreaming and planning were finally coming to fruition. His vision was on the brink of becoming a reality.

He had no trouble smuggling his project out of GenTech. As a level 6 virologist he had certain privileges; he was held in good esteem not only by his colleagues but by anyone who knew him. Anyone who shook his warm, firm grip and looked into his clear blue eyes. No one suspected the writhing darkness that ticked away in his brain; the festering hatred that turned people's smiles into mocking leers, the overwhelming misery deep inside that turned even the kind and caring into cruel monsters. No one had the slightest idea.

Freddy Hines was the original go-getter, the can-doer, the all-around 'team player'. There was certainly nothing about his looks or attitude that would alarm anyone. He was handsome, brilliant; he smiled, he laughed, he went to church, paid his taxes and even coached Little League. He went on fun-runs and to bakes sales and city council meetings and served jury duty when called upon to do so. He never drove drunk or gambled; he held open doors for a variety of beautiful dates and helped little old ladies across busy streets all with a big toothy grin on his gloriously tanned countenance. He was well spoken, wore designer jeans, and combed his immaculate hair just like the men gracing the covers of those slick magazines with names that sounded vaguely sexual. He was a 'type-A', take charge kind of guy that you always wanted on your team. He was the man who rose through the ranks on hard work and dedication; not brown-nosing. He was everybody's favorite co-worker and yet no one counted him as a close friend.

Freddy never let anyone close enough to really get to know him because it was all just carefully crafted camouflage. It really wasn't much different than the old children's story of the wolf in sheep's clothing. He was a soulless predator milling around his unsuspecting victims; blending in and biding his time until the perfect moment. 

Beneath his many charms was a heart as cold and uncaring as that of a gila monster. Behind that big flashy grin and inside his brilliant mind slithered an abomination; a gleefully capering madness that festered like a rancid wound. He was a psychopath in the truest sense of the word and he cared about no one and nothing. In this regard, Freddy was only one of many; the awful truth is that the world is as full of evil people as good people.

As he drove back home to his posh bachelor pad just twelve minutes outside of downtown Phoenix, the tiny blue case containing his project on the passenger seat beside him, he was grinning from ear to ear. He had never felt something so close to real happiness in his entire fourty-three years on Earth. It was the finest day he'd ever experienced and it seemed fitting that it would also be his last. 

He was a little disappointed that he wouldn't be able to see the true scope of his poisoned brilliance. He would be unable to witness the carnage and miss out on the exquisite aftermath. But, he supposed, it was really a small price to pay for the power to change the world. All of his planning and hard work, the sleepless nights spent sweating in bed while he thought about ending the plague that was mankind, everything...it had all led to this one shining moment. He intended to enjoy it thoroughly before he was swept away with the rest of them.

He parked his BMW in the garage and went inside to get ready. There was a concert he had to make in just a little less than three hours and he wanted to be good and ready when the show started. He'd heard that every seat was going to be filled tonight, thirty thousand to be exact, and he wanted to get to his as early as possible. He patted the little blue case in his pocket, flashing his mega-watt smile, his gosh-isn't-life-great smile; one of the only smiles he'd ever worn that hadn't been manufactured deliberately.

Thirty thousand people. It was going to hit them like a freight train. One vial of clear liquid was going to be the ruination of mankind. One perfectly terrible little virus was going to change the world and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Frederick Hines found that he could not stop smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Evelyn on the worst day of her life...so far.

~Evelyn~

Evelyn Meyers looked down at the test strip again as her mouth filled with a steely taste that she did not immediately recognize as terror. She wasn't dreaming or hallucinating or imagining things. That second pink line was really there. It had grown slightly darker.

Suddenly she couldn't seem to catch her breath; in fact could hardly breathe at all. Her eyes remained on those two pink lines and they were all that she could see. She no longer had any doubt and there was no need for a second test just to be sure. A missed period and now this irrefutable proof on her bathroom counter. She was pregnant.

She let out all of her pent-up breath in a rush. As soon as it was out her knees went weak and rubbery and she had to grip the edge of the cold porcelain sink to keep from falling. She felt an unpleasant tingly-hot sensation creep from behind her ears and then slowly fan out all over her face. Her wide blue eyes seemed to slightly bulge as they pulsed along with her heart. A cold sweat broke out all over her body and she began to tremble violently. A low moan escaped her but she was hardly aware of it; could barely hear it over the maddening beat of her blood as it pounded through her head.

She leaned her forehead against the back of both of her hands and waited for it to pass. Finally, after an interminable amount of time, the crazy thudding of her heart slowed back into a normal rhythm and her breathing deepened.

The sweat began to dry on her body and her trembling ceased. She waited for another long moment, her eyes still shut against the harsh glare of fluorescent light above, and reminded herself that she had to go easy. It wouldn't be wise to trust this calm and stand only to have the same thing happen again.

Evelyn cautiously lifted her head, opened her eyes, and slowly came up to stand once more. She met her own gaze in the bathroom mirror and saw a young woman with long brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and attractive yet unremarkable features. The only mark that stood out on her mostly unblemished face was a small crescent moon shaped scar on her chin. Otherwise she had a face that could've belonged to anyone else in the world. She could've blended into any crowd of people and go unnoticed in most. The only striking feature about her was a pair of unsettlingly direct blue eyes so dark that you couldn't tell their true color unless you were right up close. Today there was only one difference that she could see. She looked absolutely terrified.

"Oh, you silly bitch," she said in a whispery voice she hardly recognized as her own. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"

Her image broke apart with sudden tears and she covered her face with hands that were once again shaking uncontrollably. She blindly fumbled her way to the commode and sat down hard on the closed lid, causing it to squeak sharply like an injured mouse. The sobs were coming harder now and she unconsciously rocked back and forth, moaning in a lost and frightened way. After her tears began to slow and then eventually stopped, she felt a little better. Crying, she had found out in the twenty five years she'd been alive, was sometimes good for at least that much. She tore some tissue off of the roll next to her and swiped at her swollen eyes, the skin there feeling tighter than usual. She blew her nose noisily into another bit of tissue and tossed it into the wastebasket.

She sat there for a moment, her hands clasped loosely together in her lap, and tried hard to decide what to do next.

Calling her father came to mind but she reluctantly pushed that aside. Her father, in his early sixties and living in Fort Lauderdale, would undoubtedly be sympathetic and tell her that 'everything worked out the way it was supposed to'. That would calm her, as her father's kind ear and even kinder words usually did, but it would have to wait. There were more important things to think about at the moment. Besides, he wasn't the man she really needed to tell. 

Evelyn sighed heavily and took her phone out of the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. It was ten thirty in the morning on a Monday. Jason would be home because his shift at the plant didn't start until two. As little as she wanted to, she knew he had to be told. She couldn't imagine how he might react to the news of her pregnancy but, considering how things had been between them the last couple of weeks, she would expect the worst and hope for the best.

He may even try to deny that it's his baby, a sly, musing voice whispered in her head. Wouldn't be beyond him, would it? No. He's done worse, hasn't he?

She gritted her teeth against the horrible thought and forced it away. She should at least give him a chance, shouldn't she? He may be an insufferable prick but surely he wasn't an outright monster. He may not be good for anything as far as she could see but fatherhood has a way of changing some men for the better. Perhaps even he could learn to love someone more than himself. Stranger things have happened anyway, she supposed.

Even if things went even more wrong between the two of them, even if he didn't want the responsibility of bringing a new life into the world, she did. She knew without question that she would have it and keep it. She would raise her son or daughter the best that she could and love him or her with all of her heart. She had a big heart and it had been a long time since she had felt such a swelling in it as she did at that moment. If Jason didn't want anything to do with it, well, maybe that would be the best thing that could happen. But no one, and especially not Jason, could convince her not to have the baby. 

No one had to help her or agree with her. Even if every hand turned against her, she would not sway in this. She was pregnant. That meant she would have it, care for it, and love it until her last breath just as her own mother had done with her. And, even though this wasn't exactly the joyous occasion she'd always dreamed of as a little girl, God help anyone who tried to stand in her way.

With this thought burning inside of her, a new and unexpected confidence bloomed and it drove her to take immediate action. She looked at her phone again and quickly pulled up Jason's number. She hit the call button and held the phone to her ear, whispering, "Here we go."

It rang and rang until she was sure that she would only get his annoying voicemail and then his sleepy voice was in her ear. "Hullo?"

"Jason? I guess I woke you up."

"Hey, sweetie."

Oh, now it's 'sweetie', she thought, biting her lip to keep from snickering. 

Evelyn heard the rustle of his bedsheets as he sat up. "Why're you calling so early?" A slight pause and now his voice was different, more aware. "I thought you might call me last night...I was disappointed when you didn't."

There was a much longer moment of silence in which he waited for a response and didn't get one. 

He tried again, "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I called in sick," she said. 

This was a lie. She hadn't been able to reach anyone at the office yet, which was odd to say the least. She assumed Wanda had been away from the receptionist cubicle but...four times? This had been a very strange morning.

Before she could follow this thought any further, Jason asked, "Sick?" He sounded vaguely concerned now. "You don't sound sick, Evelyn. What's wrong?"

"Well," she stopped, her eyes drifting again to the pregnancy test sitting on the counter, and suddenly realized that this was not something she wanted to tell him over the phone. If he tried to deny his part in this she wanted him to do it face to face.

"Well what?" His voice no longer concerned. He sounded like he was getting angry and, oh boy, wasn't this a wonderful way to start?

"We need to talk," she told him. It was lame and likely to only further enrage him but for now it would have to do.

"We're talking now, aren't we?" He sounded no longer the least bit sleepy. "What the hell is going on? Quit screwing around and just spit it out."

"No." She was struggling to keep her voice calm. "Not over the phone. Meet me at the coffee shop on Meadow across from the mall. We'll talk about it there." That was good. A place where they were both known might make him less likely to start trouble.

"This is bullshit," he sounded confused as well as pissed now. "Why can't we talk right now?"

"Just meet me at Cup O' Joe's in half an hour," she said, refusing to be drawn in.

"What the fu-"

She took the phone away from her ear and tapped the red END button with one shaking finger, cutting him off cleanly before he could begin to rant. She stood and began to put her phone back in her pocket when it rang in her hand. A frown creased her brow and she looked down to see that, of course, it was Jason trying to call her back. 

She knew he must be furious because she hadn't let him control the conversation the way he'd wanted to, the way he had before. Knowing him as well as she did, she thought that he was also probably extremely pissed that she'd hung up on him; something she could never remember doing to anyone on purpose, not even telemarketers. Jason didn't know yet how much things had changed but he would soon find out. She hit ignore, cutting him off again, and turned the phone off.

As she left her tiny bathroom and headed to the bedroom to change, she thought, You're not going to get your way this time, you bullying bastard.

Barely twenty minutes later, on her way to meet the father of her unborn child, she didn't notice how few people were out. How there were no people walking their dogs or jogging or getting the mail or stopping to chat with a neighbor over a tastefully maintained hedge. She never noticed how hers was the only car on the road; except a stalled car she spotted down the block, every vehicle other than her own might as well have broken down overnight. If she had noticed any of this she might have attributed it to the dreary mid-October Texas sky above her. It did look like it would rain and the wind was already crisp and growing colder.

She was lost in her own thoughts and the outside world took a backseat to the worry that had returned as soon as she stepped out of her apartment. If she hadn't locked herself away over the weekend with a good book, if she had watched the news or even checked her social media, she might've known what was really keeping people inside. If she had only come out of herself long enough to notice how off everything in her little part of the world was perhaps she would've been at least a little better prepared for the horrors that were coming.

***

Evelyn sat behind the wheel of her car, looking at the front of Cup O' Joe's through the windshield as the wipers swished back and forth trying to combat the light rain that had started to fall when she'd pulled into the mostly empty parking lot. After a few more minutes of building her courage again, she sighed and turned off the engine. She grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and adjusted the hood of her jacket to keep her hair from getting wet. As she did she thought of her mother, now ten years in her grave, and how she'd always said if you kept your head and feet dry you would never catch a cold. It brought a tiny ghost of a smile to her lips and then she opened her door.

Evelyn got out and locked the doors. The muted meep-meep sound let her know that no one would steal the half a roll of mints or the pennies and dimes she kept in the console. She dropped the keys into the pocket of her jacket and hurried for the door of the trendy pink and green coffee shop.

A shrill scream ripped through the late-morning silence like a knife and she stopped abruptly, frozen in place by the sheer force of that piercing sound with a thread of unease slowly creeping its way down her spine. She looked around with wide eyes, not caring that the legs of her jeans were rapidly growing wet or that her hood had slipped back and allowed chilly water to trickle down her face. There was an apartment complex almost directly behind the coffee shop and it was separated from the parking lot only by a tall wooden fence. It must have come from there because it had seemed so close to where she was now standing. When the scream was only followed by more silence, she decided that it was probably just some kids playing grab-ass and getting a little too loud. Although why any kid would want to be out messing around (and skipping school where it was undoubtedly warm and dry) on a cold, wet day like this eluded her entirely.

So she started forward again and was soon pulling the door open. She was suddenly buffeted by a warm rush of air fragrant with the good smells of coffee and fresh-baked pastries. She breathed deeply as she entered, that moment of fright in the parking lot now forgotten, and looked around her. She'd been there many times but she'd never seen so many of the cream-colored booths and tables empty. She knew Jason hadn't yet arrived because she hadn't seen his truck parked outside so she walked to the counter, thinking she might get something to munch on while she waited. She smiled at the girl working the register and ordered a strawberry smoothie and an apple fritter. 

She had to wait a bit longer than usual and, as she brought Evelyn's order to her, the counter girl apologized and said that they were short handed; that only she and the manager had shown up today. Evelyn waved a hand to show that it was all right and smiled before thanking her. She even placed a couple bucks in the tip jar; she well knew what it was like to work a crappy job like that.

There was a sudden blare of sirens outside and she looked away from the counter and out of the big window to her left to see a long line of cop cars and fire trucks flying down the road heading west. She could still hear them for a long time after they had gone, wondering what the hell was going on that they needed that many officers heading in the same direction.

"Scary isn't it?" Said a voice behind her.

Evelyn started a little and turned her head back to see the counter girl chewing her lower lip anxiously. 

"Pardon?"

"With the news and all it's kinda scary to see 'em flying down the road like that," the counter girl said, giving her a nervous smile that didn't really work. "Maybe it's just something else. Like a bank robbery or something, huh?"

Evelyn paused a moment as if trying to make sense of what she was hearing and then nodded more to set the girl's fears at ease rather than out of understanding, "Sure. It's probably that."

Evelyn walked to a booth, still completely baffled by the counter girl's words, and slid into the seat. She pondered what she'd meant and sipped the smoothie a bit. Finally, shaking her head as if to decide that it didn't really matter either way, she began to nibble at her apple fritter. Then she began to eat with more gusto as the counter girl faded in her mind. When it was gone she wiped her hands on a napkin and sat back feeling moderately better.

She sipped again at her smoothie and finally looked up at the large flat screen television hanging on the wall facing her. It was turned to one of the major cable networks and she saw some city in Arizona where people appeared to be rioting. The sound was turned all the way down but the captioning was on and she could read most of what the reporters were saying even though the text was flicking by rapidly.

They were talking about the riot and about how the police had been overwhelmed. Then the footage changed and there were crowds of people running in all directions. You could clearly see the panic and terror on some of those faces and yet in others there appeared to be only rage. Evelyn watched with slowly mounting alarm as a man with a bloody face and bulging eyes tackled a woman in a blue sweater and, although Evelyn could not hear it, she could see the woman's mouth stretch into a scream far better than she wanted to.

The news footage changed again and now it was a different city that the reporters identified as Colorado Springs. More people rioting and the reporters were saying how this, whatever it was, appeared to have spread to other areas. More "riots" had popped up in Nevada and California, in New Mexico and Texas and even Oklahoma. It wasn't only large populations that were being affected, they said, but now the more rural areas as well. The reporters were in as much of a frenzy as the rioters and Evelyn felt icy hands of fear working their way deeper and deeper into the pit of her stomach. 

Now the girl at the counter didn't seem so strange. Something was definitely wrong here. This whole picture was wrong and, as she watched what appeared to be an entire city block briskly burning despite the desperate effort of fire fighters, she whispered to herself, "What the hell is going on?"

The CDC was being mentioned several times and she saw men and women in hazmat suits loading up in a plane. Then troops with automatic weapons in big green trucks; so many trucks and soldiers that Evelyn couldn't make sense of any of it anymore. She caught the words 'quarantine procedures' and then a big hand dropped onto her shoulder.

She issued a breathless little cry, her heart speeding up even faster, and snapped her head to the left, looking up at whoever had touched her. Jason Donner stood there, freshly showered and shaved, his handsome face expressionless.

"Hey," he said in a voice that was equally devoid of emotion.

"Jason," she said, her voice shaking a little. For a moment there she had almost forgotten all about him. She finally managed to regain some composure and said, "Have a seat."

His dark brown eyes looked into hers for a long moment and she bore it well, unwilling to drop her eyes first because she knew that was what he wanted.

He was 32, seven years older than her, and a man possessing a tall and lean build who's face held a bit of resemblance to a young Steve McQueen. She had once found him so attractive and charming but that was no longer the case. Now she looked at him and only saw a problem she could gladly do without.

Everything had been good during the first six months of their relationship, dates and eventually intimacy of all types, and then, without warning, things had changed. He began calling her incessantly on her cell and at her work until she was finally reprimanded by her boss. Then he started dropping by her apartment at odd times unannounced; a couple of times waking her up in the middle of the night. He was always full of questions about where she'd been or who she'd been with and they never felt as if they came out of friendly interest. 

Recently, on three separate occasions, she'd caught him following her; spying on her as she went to work or to the grocery store and then denying it when she'd finally worked up the nerve and confronted him about it. She thought that it'd been going on for some time before she became aware of it and it frightened and angered her. She couldn't be comfortable around him anymore and for the last two weeks she'd been avoiding him entirely.

It was pretty baffling as to how she was pregnant because she hadn't let him touch her in almost a month...and every time they were intimate they'd always used a condom. He was the only man she'd had in her bed for nearly two years and of course he would be the one to knock her up. It was just bad luck, she supposed.

When Jason's attempt to stare her down failed he removed his hand from her shoulder and went to the other side of the booth to sit down.

After a few moments of silence, she couldn't take it anymore and asked, "You didn't want any coffee, hmm?"

The frown that clouded his face told her that coffee was the furthest thing from his mind. "Cut the shit," he snapped. "What's this all about?"

Evelyn let her eyes finally drop from his, suddenly not sure how to tell him. She opened her mouth as if she were about to speak and then closed it again, looking down at her hands and wondering how she should begin.

"Are you trying to break up with me?" he asked, sounding angry again. "Because if that's what-"

Her unbidden laughter, derisive and really without good humor, cut him off. "Of course that would be your first thought," she said, unable to help herself.

His hand reached out in a flash, gripping her wrist mercilessly with its calloused roughness, and her drink nearly tipped over. And now here was something else that made her wish Jason Fuckface Donner had fallen down a well today. His hand crushed down harder until she could feel the tiny bones in her wrist grinding together and her mouth twisted into a grimace of pain.

"Don't, okay?" His hand tightened further and she thought he might break it. "Don't you try to be fucking cute with me, Evelyn. Not just now. Say what you have to say and be done with it."

Her fear gave way to a surging anger that immediately made the pain lessen a little and she twisted her wrist toward his thumb, somehow breaking his hold on her and not her wrist. She didn't even care that it still hurt like hell, the surprise on his face was worth it. 

Her upper lip curled in a sneer and she let fly without thinking, "I'm pregnant, you asshole."

His mouth dropped open a little and his eyes widened. For a moment his surprise was total and she tried to prepare herself for what was coming next.

"What?" His voice was uncharacteristically small for him. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. I'm pregnant. I found out right before I called you."

He rubbed at the base of his throat in a nervous gesture she'd never seen from him before. If she hadn't known him very well it might have actually been endearing. 

"How sure are you?" He asked, his eyes still a little too wide. "I mean, do you just think you are or...?"

"I missed a period and the pregnancy test I took said I was. I haven't seen a doctor yet but the one I took said it was over ninety-nine percent accurate. So I'm pretty sure."

He was silent for a long moment and then quietly said, "Oh fuck me."

"I'm afraid that's what got me in this mess in the first place," she said, not meaning it as a joke but only stating the obvious.

Jason's eyes narrowed with returning fury as he looked at her. "Your mouth is about to get you into some serious trouble," he said in a low voice. "Trouble with a capital fucking t, you understand?" 

She'd thought for quite some time that he was capable of real violence, perhaps towards her more than anyone else, but at this point she felt more weary than scared. She was just so tired of him and all the problems he'd caused. She had wanted to give him a chance to do the right thing but she could see now that hope had been naive at best. He was cruel and hateful and she wouldn't trust him to take care of a house plant, much less a child.

"You know what, Jason? Fuck this and fuck you too," she snarled at him, her voice rising and drawing the attention of the only other patron in the coffee shop. 

He was a man with a much larger build than Jason and a badly scarred face; so damaged and puckered on the right side that it hurt her heart to see it. He looked to be in his early forties and he sat in a booth across the aisle and three booths down. When her voice had risen above a polite out-in-public murmur and into a near shout he'd turned his attention from the news and sat his coffee down with a thump, his eyes meeting hers. He didn't appear to be irritated, only mildly curious. When her eyes met his he did not look away.

She quickly took her eyes off of the stranger and looked back at Jason. Lowering her voice she said, "I don't have to put up with this and I'm not going to anymore. You don't scare me, Jason. I've decided you'd be a shitty father and I'm through with you."

He sat there looking surprised again and she could see it in his eyes that this was not the way he wanted things to go. He was supposed to dominate this conversation, not her. He quickly recovered from his initial shock and anger replaced it. Two hectic red patches began to spread on his cheeks, one under each eye, and his large-knuckled hands clenched into fists. He slowly smiled and with it she felt cold dread blossoming in the pit of her stomach again.

"You're not through with me, Evelyn," he told her with his teeth bared like an animal ready to bite. "And, if you've got any sense in that little head of yours, you'd better be fucking scared of me."

She fought against the tears that wanted to form in her eyes. She'd always been the kind of girl who cried when she got mad. He wanted her to cry and he expected it because it was what she'd always done before. She couldn't let herself because she knew he would take it as a sign of weakness and now she had to let him know that she was a lot stronger than he thought.

"Go to hell," she spat at him. "It's over, Jason. I never want to see you again."

"You can't just walk away from me like that," he said quietly as he once more regarded her with flat and emotionless eyes. "I won't let you."

She'd been lying before, he did scare her, but she couldn't let him know. She had to look into eyes with all the warmth of a corpse and say, "You can't stop me. If you try...if you do anything I swear to Christ that you won't live long enough to regret it. If you so much as show up on my doorstep, I'll kill you."

No surprise this time; no outward reaction from him at all except that now his smile had stretched very wide. 

"I don't know what's gotten into you, sweetheart, but you better quit on it. You're not thinking clearly."

Evelyn stood suddenly, unable to take one more second of his chilly gaze, and her thighs bumped the table hard enough to knock over her smoothie. It sent a bright pink splash across the table's previously unmarred surface and began dripping into the seat below. The man with the scarred face was watching her again instead of the television. Her nerve had finally broken and she was fighting very hard to keep from crying now.

"You just stay away from me, I'm warning you. Stay away or you'll be sorry." She tried to sound menacing, or at least appear fearless, but her lower lip was trembling uncontrollably and her voice came out as a weak parody of how she'd meant to come across. She didn't sound determined and ready for a fight if he wanted one. She sounded breathless and terrified. Her voice had always been the quickest part of her to betray her and now, when it meant so much to put up a brave front, it had failed her again.

She didn't wait for a reply. Evelyn quickly stepped away from the booth and nearly ran down the aisle toward the door leading outside. The flood she'd been damming up behind her eyes finally broke loose in a torrent and she sobbed audibly before stepping out into the rain.  
She didn't know that Jason was right behind her. She had no idea what was about to happen and, even if she had, it probably wouldn't have changed anything anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we meet Luke Autry, another POV character. In the original draft of this he was missing his left eye but in the second draft I changed it to scars on one side of his face because I thought it would be less of a hindrance.

~Luke~

Luke Autry sat in the cramped cream-colored booth after the arguing couple had departed, slowly draining his sugar-laced black coffee. He felt the comforting bulge of the Colt 1911 in the docker's clutch beneath his left arm, where it was hidden by his light jacket, and wondered if that young woman needed help. From what he'd seen so far on the news, she wasn't the only one in trouble today.

The couple had obviously been fighting and the man with dark blonde hair had been terribly angry with her; following her outside and making it clear that he wasn't finished arguing yet. Luke had overheard a good deal of their conversation and, considering the circumstances, it was one of those situations that had a good possibility of not ending well. He was thinking that it might be prudent for someone to intervene if things got out of hand but who knew? Maybe he had read it all wrong. Maybe it would only progress into a shouting match and nothing more. 

Sipping his coffee again, he thought that it really wasn't any of his business anyway. He'd just be an exceedingly ugly man sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. It was not his place to go around rescuing damsels in distress and he was too old to play knight anymore.

His gaze shifted back to the TV and he saw some talking head in a suit jabbering on about the same old shit. Things were bad and getting worse and the information that he was getting from the TV all seemed to be on repeat.

"The whole world's going to hell," Luke murmured to himself.

He finished his coffee, knowing it would give him indigestion and not caring in the least. He just hoped whatever was happening didn't affect Dallas. He had a hell of a good job lined up in a security company with an old jarhead buddy he'd known since his first tour in Afghanistan. He'd been driving for nearly three days, all the way from Nevada, and now it looked like he might not reach his destination after all. He wished that all of this had waited to happen until after he'd had at least a couple of good days to console him for all the bad years preceding them. So many years of bad days and bad nights filled with bad dreams that he couldn't really remember what a good day felt like anymore.

It seemed like nothing ever got better; one god-awful day ended only to give birth to a worse one. The opportunity for a change of scenery was the only thing that had given him the slightest glimmer of hope in a long time. Now everyone had decided to lose their minds and it couldn't have come at a worse time.

He was drawn out of this unusual moment of self pity as brakes screeched and a horn began to honk loudly outside. He turned his head to the windows facing the street and looked at the scene now unfolding there. 

Faintly he heard the girl who had taken his order earlier say, "Oh my God."

There was a woman in a white gown crossing the street in front of a blue pickup that was loaded down with hastily gathered possessions. Even from so far away Luke could see a vacuum cleaner with its cord dangling over the tailgate and the bumper until it was dragging on the road. The man behind the wheel of the truck shook his fist at the woman and his lips moved as he shouted something that Luke couldn't possibly hear. But the woman was already reaching the curb, seemingly oblivious to the angry man who had almost run her down in the road like a stray dog, and the man accelerated again, his old farm truck belching blue smoke and roaring out of sight.

Luke stood from his seat. The woman in the long white dress was making her way to the parking lot of the coffee shop; he could see her form moving closer even as the wind shifted and threw a sheet of rain against the window. The glass cleared and he saw blood on her chest and face, sending his 'oh shit' meter well into the red. He moved for the door before he was aware of what he was doing.

He reached the door and then a small voice called, "Don't go out there!"

Luke spun around on his heel, his gun in his right hand even though he couldn't precisely remember drawing it, and saw the counter girl perhaps fifteen paces behind him. Her eyes were very large and she looked at the gun in his hand as if she'd never seen one before. She was terrified, making her appear impossibly young, but it was not him or his weapon that she feared.

She looked from his gun to his face and he clearly saw the white circles of shock around her eyes. She lifted one arm and pointed out to the world beyond the glass. 

"Look," she whispered, drawing closer.

He did and what he saw was not encouraging. There was a group of people across the street in the parking lot of a hardware store and everyone seemed to be either running or fighting with each other. He watched as a woman began attacking a very young boy and then an elderly gent beating at the woman with his cane as he tried unsuccessfully to drag the injured child away. A younger man who held the hand of a heavyset woman was run over by a speeding grey sedan and the woman was knocked violently aside. Her limbs flailed wildly before she hit the pavement, rolled gracelessly to a stop, and lay there unmoving.

Apparently the 'riots' and 'civil unrest' had come to this little place the green sign he'd seen on his way in had declared 'Gaines, Pop. 53,764'. All the way out in Hicksville, Texas he got his first unfiltered look at a new world and his only thought was, This is worse than even I could've imagined.

Luke looked back at the counter girl again and said, "I'm not staying here. Those bastards will come right through this glass for us." He indicated with his free hand the plate-glass windows around the entire front half of the building. "This place is a deathtrap."

The counter girl bit her lip and said, "Okay. I'm coming with you."

Luke nodded in agreement, "I think that's the right idea." 

He turned around and opened the door, stepping out into the bedlam that had been a sleepy Texas town mere moments ago. The screams surrounding him and the faint scent of blood on the air as he stepped out felt oddly like coming home. He thought again about how nice it would have been just to have one week of good days before this; hell, even a day. After all of the shit he'd been through in the last decade and a half he still wasn't ready for what waited outside.

No one was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn's POV)
> 
> Jason isn't the only thing she has to worry about today.

~Evelyn~

There was some kind of commotion going on nearby as Evelyn stumbled her way into the parking lot but she was crying too hard to see or hear much of anything beyond her own misery. She made it to her car, pulled her keys out of her pocket, and wiped at her streaming eyes with her other hand. She was about to press the little button on her remote key to unlock the doors when they were slapped from her hand.

The keys sailed off to her left and landed in a rapidly growing puddle with a muted jingle. Then a hand, as hard and unforgiving as steel, clamped around the upper part of her right arm. She was spun around rudely and slammed up against the side of her car.

Crying out in surprise and pain, Evelyn looked up through her tear-blurred eyes and saw Jason staring down at her. His face was no longer handsome; it was now a raw mask of fury breathing down on her.

"Where in the fuck do you think you're going?" he growled at her through clenched teeth that still absurdly resembled a smile. "You're not running out on me, you bitch."

"Let me go!" she cried, struggling to free herself even though at 6"2 he was six inches taller than her and outweighed her by seventy pounds or so. 

She shot a glance at Cup O' Joe's but there would be no help from that direction. A monstrous SUV blocked the window facing them and you couldn't see a thing through the heavily tinted glass of the vehicle's windows. That meant that no one could see them from inside the coffee shop. She was on her own.

Jason's free hand tangled in her wet hair and pulled, making her gasp in pain. His face pushed in even closer to hers and that hideous smile was all that she could see. 

"How stupid can you be?" he asked, giving her head a hard shake and making her cry out again. "I told you that you ain't leaving me, darling. You're going to stay until I decide to let you go."

The hand holding her bicep suddenly let go and slid down her abdomen to gently touch her lower belly for a moment. She drew back with an involuntary cry of revulsion and his hand tightly gripped her shoulder now. 

When he spoke again his voice was soft and almost normal, "I don't think you'll be leaving me any time soon. We're going to have a baby."

Somewhere off to her left, out in the street that she couldn't see, brakes screeched and a horn honked long and loud. Then a man shouted, "Watch out, you crazy bitch! Haven't you ever crossed a road before?!?" This was followed by the roar of an engine and tires squealing on wet pavement as whatever vehicle the angry man had been driving sped away.

Evelyn heard all of this but none of it registered. All she was aware of was Jason's smile in front of her; it seemed to overshadow everything else. Nothing else mattered to her at that moment other than getting away from that horrendous, shark-like grin looming over her.

"Stop it, Jason," she said, her voice hitching with a sob on the second word. "Just leave me alone."

He shook his head as rainwater dripped down his face and plastered his dark blonde hair to his skull. His dark eyes were cruel and without mercy as he said, "You're going to walk back to my truck. You're going to do it nice and quiet or I'll make you regret it. Do you understand?"

When she only looked at him, trying desperately to think of a way to convince him to stop this, he savagely tightened his hand in her hair and rapped her head against the roof of her car before shaking it once more until she cried out, "Yes! Yes, I understand!"

"Good," he said, pleased by her response and even more so by her fear of him. "We're going to get in my truck and I'll drive us out somewhere where we can have a little chat about just who's going to do what. Okay?"

"NO!!!" She screamed, struggling once more against the big hands restraining her. 

She couldn't let him get her alone. He was obviously much more unstable than she ever would have believed. Who knew what he'd do to her once he had her out in the middle of nowhere? Where no one could witness whatever horrible thing he had in mind?

He released her hair for the first time and she watched with watering eyes as he raised his hand to strike her. She cringed against the side of her car once it reached the end of its arc, waiting for that heavy hand to deliver a hard blow. When a moment or two passed and it didn't come, she opened her eyes to see him now standing with his back facing her. Relief washed over her and she stood up straight enough so that she could see who or what had intervened in her favor.

Everything that happened after that happened fast but for one moment before the shit hit the fan she thought that it must be the man from the coffee shop. Maybe he'd followed them outside, saw what was going on, and decided to play hero and put a stop to this before it could go any further. Then Evelyn leaned to the side a little to look past Jason's broad shoulder and saw that it wasn't the man with the disfigured face at all. Instead there was a woman standing there.

She was wearing a soiled wedding dress that had once been ivory white and was now several different shades of dirty brown and gray. Her bridal veil, what was left of it, was ragged and torn. There was a bib of some faded red substance on her scant bosom and a much darker red streaked throughout her upswept blonde hair. More red, darker, smeared around her mouth and trailed down her chin to finish in streaks and smears until it reached the rich fabric covering her breasts. Evelyn thought the woman looked like a contestant in a cherry pie eating competition that had gone horribly awry. Where she was not covered in red she was splashed with mud and soaked with dirty water.

"What the fuck do you want?" The words were harsh but Jason's voice had lost most of it's edge and he sounded more cautious than angry.

The bedraggled bride opened her mouth and bared small, even teeth that appeared to have bits of dark red food caught between them. She lunged at him clumsily and battened on his neck like a frenzied lover even as his arms came up to try and push her away.

Jason screamed in surprised pain and the bride, though she was much smaller than he, brought him down to the wet pavement with her arms wrapped around his chest. They hit hard and dirty water splashed up around them, soaking the frozen, gaping-in-shock Evelyn. The bride's teeth worked at his throat and Evelyn realized that she could hear her growling even as Jason's blood filled her mouth.

Evelyn saw everything as it happened; everything seemed too bright, too sharp like an overexposed photo. Every detail, his blood squirting up into the chilly air, his hands beating futilely at his attacker; everything was exquisitely rendered and glowing with a vibrancy and life of its own. It only served to deepen her shock as she watched, to make everything seem surreal and dreamlike.

She could do nothing but stand there and watch as the bloodied bride continued to work her small, deadly teeth deeper and deeper into Jason's neck. He screamed thickly, something that sounded like a painful gargle, as his dark eyes bulged from his sockets and his hands and feet began to drum mindlessly on the wet pavement. Rain fell into his open eyes and they rolled up to look at Evelyn a moment, as if marking her, before straying back to the sky once more. Blood was pooling around him and mixing with the rainwater and Evelyn could smell its coppery scent, thick and unpleasant. As the smell of his dying bowels releasing their contents into his pants came to her, she saw his eyes lose their luster; growing unfocused. She knew he was gone then and she felt a sob tear loose from her chest. 

The bride continued to work at the gaping wound in Jason's neck for a moment longer while Evelyn looked on with most of her senses still wiped away by shock. The bride finally seemed to notice her standing there and stood from where she'd been kneeling. The blood coating her face was so thick that she no longer appeared human.

Her mouth opened wide and blood so dark it almost seemed black poured out to further drench her chin and throat. Her thin fingers, one so badly broken that it crossed over the one next to it, began to jerk in spasms as if a powerful electrical current were passing through them.

Slowly, much too slowly, Evelyn started to come back to herself. She was alone with this madwoman. She looked into the bride's feverish eyes and the immediate danger of death was clear in them. The bride threw her head back and shrieked at the sky, jolting Evelyn further into the land of awareness but not enough yet to react. She was still frozen in place, the numbness only partially dissipating, even as the bride lunged for her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Luke's POV)
> 
> Luke does his best but sometimes you have to learn when to let go.

~Luke~

He couldn't get a clear shot at the bride without putting a bullet in the other girl as well. She screamed weakly and put out her hands to stop the maniac in the wedding dress, catching her shoulders and somehow keeping her off of her just enough to stay unmarked. Luke knew that he had only moments before the girl's strength failed so he lowered his 1911 and cursed as he sprinted forward.

She was restraining the bride just barely, her red mouth snapping and growling, and Luke saw that the girl's left hand was starting to slip on the dirty white fabric. If she lost her grip the bride would be on her in a heartbeat.

He reached them just as the girl cried out again wordlessly in terror and he placed the barrel of his gun against the bride's temple. He pulled the trigger and the sound was muffled as her brains exited the other side of her head. The bride went down in a heap at the girl's feet and she stood there with her mouth opening and closing over and over again like a fish, her eyes so huge that he thought they might fall right out of their sockets.

Suddenly an awful shriek tore through the air and Luke looked behind him to see the coffee shop girl cowering against an oversized SUV as another bloodied stranger quickly advanced on her. Luke didn't have time to aim, he just pointed and shot twice. The stranger crumpled to the ground, a large hole in his abdomen just below the name tag with 'Clarence' stitched on it and another in his neck. Even as the blood began to furiously pump out of his wounds, Clarence tried to regain his feet so Luke shot him again, this time in his head, and when he went down he didn't try to get back up.

Luke turned back to the girl who'd watched her boyfriend being chowed on and said, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Her eyes finally met his and he could see from her blank stare that she hadn't understood a word he'd just said. Maybe she was deafened by the gunshots or maybe her shock was so complete that even language was beyond her. Either way, he had no time to gently coax her into understanding so he grabbed her arm roughly and shouted into her face, "Get moving or you're dead!"

That finally spurred her into action and she followed willingly as he pulled her over to the hysterically sobbing coffee shop girl. "My moving truck is just over there," He told them, pointing to a large box truck parked in a space closer to the fence that ran behind the building. "We can make it there in seconds if you stay close to me and don't stop."

They were both nodding, the coffee shop girl's blond curls bouncing even as she continued to sob, and Luke started that way. They stayed close as he'd instructed and the three of them reached the truck in only moments. 

Luke switched the gun to his left hand and stuffed the right one into his jacket pocket. There was a napkin and a disposable lighter but no keys. Cursing under his breath, he jammed his hand into the pocket of his jeans and finally his fingers touched metal. He pulled the keys out and heard a thud and a splash behind him.

He turned to see the girl from the coffee shop on the ground with a skinny man in mechanic's overalls on top of her. He started forward as she screamed for help and then the man plunged his face down and bit into her left cheek. Her screams intensified as the blood began to flow and Luke kicked out at the man with one huge booted foot. He connected solidly with the mechanic's ribs and he heard a snap but the man barely flinched. He kept biting and tearing at the poor girl's face as she beat her tiny hands about his head and shoulders, her screams so loud that Luke could almost feel them on the air.

"Get off of her, you sorry bastard!" Luke raged as he reached down to grip the man's thick black hair in his free hand. He yanked as hard as he could and the skinny man flew backward, still snarling and biting, to land in a different puddle two feet away.

The 1911 was back in his right hand and Luke shot him twice, once in the chest and once right between his madly bulging eyes. The skinny man fell back and he turned to the coffee shop girl. The other girl was helping her to her feet and the coffee shop girl was sobbing and shaking, a large hole in her face exposing muscles and tendons that bled profusely.

"Come on," Luke said to her as he reached out to gently touch her shoulder. "Let's get you some help."

She flinched away from his touch and turned away toward the coffee shop. Her eyes were huge circles steadily leaking tears and she held one hand to the hole in her face, blood pouring from between her fingers. She began to walk away in the direction of Cup O' Joe's, muttering, "I have to call my mom. I have to call my mom, she'll be really worried."

"No, don't leave!" the other girl stepped forward and tried to stop her but the coffee shop girl shrugged her hand off of her shoulder as well. She sobbed, muttered about her mother again, and continued walking.

Luke started forward, meaning to pick her up and force her into the truck if he had to, and stopped suddenly when he saw a group of at least ten people racing toward them. They were all growling in that animal-like way just as the bride and the mechanic had been doing and Luke realized that the coffee shop girl hadn't seen them because she was walking right toward them, still muttering and looking down at her feet as she plodded along in shock.

Time had run out. He couldn't possibly get to her before they did and if he tried they would all die in this parking lot. So he took the unharmed girl's arm and pulled her toward the moving truck once more. Trying very hard not to panic, he began searching his pockets for the keys again only to remember that he'd had them in hand when the other girl had been attacked. He saw them lying on the ground by the back tire and scooped them up just as he heard the coffee shop girl scream shrilly again.

His hands shaking violently, Luke fumbled with the key and unlocked the driver's side door. "We have to help her," the girl still with him said in a small voice. "Oh my God, they're all over her."

Luke finally got the damned thing open and turned back to his companion, "In! In! Get in!"

She didn't have to be told twice and scrambled up into the driver's seat of the moving truck and then over to the passenger side. Luke spared a glance for the coffee shop girl and saw that she had indeed been swarmed by crazy people. She was still screaming, only one pale hand visible with all the moving bodies around her, and as he heard her last cry ever on this Earth, he saw several people turn toward him and the truck. They began sprinting his way and it galvanized him into action, leaping into the truck and sweeping the door shut in one move.

The girl who'd made it was crying now, her face in her hands, and Luke felt them hit the driver's side of the truck just as he jammed the key into the ignition. He heard several pairs of hands beating on the door and then the engine was roaring to life. He shifted into reverse and slammed down on the gas. He felt several thumps as he knocked aside the gathering crowd and then they were reversing over bodies, the crack and crunch of their bones very loud underneath them. As they reversed out of the coffee shop parking lot and onto the road, Luke found that he was crying too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Brian Rodriguez (new POV) as he realizes that the world has changed drastically overnight.

~Brian~

Brian Rodriguez awoke around noon to excruciatingly bright light and what sounded like a horror movie turned up way too loud; screaming, several blaring car alarms, glass breaking, at least three different police sirens keening on and on endlessly in the distance, a voice shouting "No!" over and over again before ending in a scream so loud and high-pitched that it could've shattered crystal. 

He sat up on the couch, rubbing at his eyes and squinting, and looked around the room. He was in his cousin's living room, which was right because he'd been crashing at Flip's apartment for the last couple of weeks since his mom threw him out, but there was sunlight filling the room and that was definitely wrong. Flip liked his place dark (so much better for gaming, which was Flip's only passion beyond recreational drug use) and had placed heavy black curtains over every single window.

He looked to his left and saw that the front door was wide open. The sunlight filling the living room was actually quite dull because there were dark clouds overhead but to his oversensitive eyes it might as well have been a bright summer day. He groaned with displeasure and rubbed at his tired eyes once more. Maybe there was a fight going on in the parking lot? This wasn't the nicest area and even for such a small town it could get pretty bad. Sometimes there were gunshots and usually there were people fighting out there at least once a month over something dumb. 

Then he thought, Shit, I hope we didn't get robbed.

Instinctively, Brian reached down and found one of the straps of his battered blue backpack. Relief flooded through him and he shouldered it as he slipped his shoes back on his feet. He stood and stepped toward the door, needing to pee but ignoring it for the time being. He had to find out what the hell was going on first. 

As he came closer to the front door he saw a skinny elbow and then a skinny shoulder and then Philip "Flip" Johnson was revealed, his back to him, gazing out over the railing.

"The fuck?" Brian croaked, holding up one hand to shade his eyes as he stepped out beside his cousin. 

His eyes were having an even harder time adjusting to the light and he was essentially blind for the moment. The sound out there continued though and it sounded like a lot more than just a few people beating the crap out of each other. It sounded like hell on earth.

"I don't know, bro," Flip said in an uncharacteristically small voice, the Adam's apple in his throat bobbing up and down. "I just woke up hearing people screaming and...there's some fucking crazy shit going down. Check it out."

Brian's eyes finally adjusted a little better and he looked down into the semi-flooded courtyard of the old apartment complex. He let out an inarticulate noise of surprise as he saw that there were people all over the place. Directly below them there were two neighbor women fighting, one rather large and completely naked, her dark skin glistening with rain water, and the other one much smaller and wearing only ripped pajamas and one muddy house shoe. The pajama-clad woman was doing her best to keep the growling naked woman away from her but, as Brian stared down at them in total bewilderment, she was overpowered by the other woman's bulk and went down screaming in pain and terror. He quickly looked away and saw other people fighting both close and far away.

A man on the other side of the courtyard had a gun, a little thing his mother would've called a 'Saturday Night Special', and he was shooting at a tall man in a pair of athletic shorts and a blood drenched shirt. Brian watched the tall man take three shots to the abdomen and stumble to one knee before seeming to shake it off and struggling to stand again. 

The man with the Saturday Night Special turned away to run just as two more crazy people, one fat, bald and pasty white and the other a tiny dark skinned girl of no more than fifteen, grabbed him. He screamed, firing off one panicked shot into the fat man's huge belly before dropping the gun, and then they were pulling him down. The guy in the athletic shorts was moving a little more slowly but, incredibly, he joined in. Brian couldn't believe what he was seeing as they began to bite him, their teeth ripping and tearing the unfortunate man's flesh as he let out one long blood-curdling shriek of pain and terror before falling silent.

A woman with short blond hair stepped out below and to the left of where they stood and looked both ways before suddenly running for the parking lot. He recognized her as the hot girl from the apartment directly below them, the one with the awesome figure and a pretty face that seemed incapable of any expression other than one of aloof boredom. She'd actually laughed at him when he tried to talk to her a week ago. She was fairly quick, her long legs pumping and giving it her all, and almost reached the first row of cars when a man in a green hoodie tackled her unceremoniously to the ground. She also began screaming as his teeth found her and her voice joined the mad chorus all around them. 

"Holy shit," Brian said, his voice just as small and horrified as his cousin's had been. The need to piss was really bad now, his bladder throbbing like a rotten tooth from the pressure. "What the hell is wrong with everybody?"

"Don't know," Flip answered after swallowing thickly. "But I think we'd better go back inside and -"

The neighbor's door to the right side of them shuddered open and a huge man in a blood stained undershirt stepped out. Flip and Brian had just enough time to look that way and then he was on Flip, growling and gnashing his bloody teeth.

"What the fuck?!?" Flip screamed as the huge man grabbed his shoulder and tried to bite him. "Get off me! Get the fuck off me!!" 

Brian didn't think, only reacted, and punched the man in the temple as hard as he could. The man backed off a step, made a thick dog-like noise in the back of his throat, and came at Flip again. 

Flip screamed and then they were both punching the bloody man, their fists hitting him over and over again, backing him off and screaming curses at him all the while. For a moment it looked as though they would beat him down to the ground and then the bloody man let out a terrific roar and grabbed Flip in a bear hug.

Flip shrieked like a frightened child instead of a grown man of twenty three and the bloody man was pulling him down by sheer brute force, biting at Flip's throat even as he crushed him in his arms.

"Let him go, you crazy motherfucker!" Brian screamed as he tried unsuccessfully to pull the larger man off of his cousin. 

He beat around the bloody man's head and Flip's screams were starting to sound different as his mouth filled with his own blood; likely drowning in it. The big man lashed out without turning his attention away from Flip and sent Brian flying backward, leaving a large bloody smear on the front of his old white T-shirt.

Brian's head hit the ground with a hard thump, temporarily making him see stars, and he groaned in pain. Flip's screams were becoming fainter by the second as the big man continued to bite and bite and bite. Brian struggled to a sitting position, his head throbbing in time with the frantic beat of his heart, and somehow gained his feet. He saw Flip one last time, his brown eyes wide and staring down at him in stunned disbelief as his cousin's blood pooled darkly beneath him. Then Flip was gone, the light of life in his eyes fading and growing distant as his body slowly relaxed beneath the larger man.

He had but one directive now that Flip had shuffled off his mortal coil; run like his ass was on fire. Brian turned away and made for the stairs on legs that felt like overstretched rubber bands. He was three floors away from the bottom and began to descend quickly, his feet stuttering a mad tattoo on the concrete steps as he kept one hand lightly on the rail in case he tripped. He'd just reached the bottom when the big man began to come down after him.

The bloody man was now the gory man and he was nowhere near as nimble as 5"10, 140 lbs Brian. His feet tangled in his eagerness to reach his next victim and he went down, his huge body hitting the concrete steps over and over again hard enough to make the entire stairwell shake beneath him as he tumbled all the way down to the second landing.

Brian saw him collapse in a heap, one leg bent outward at an impossible angle, and then, much like the guy who'd taken three shots to the torso and kept coming, the gory man was raising his upper body and trying to gain his feet, still growling and looking down at Brian. There was no humanity in his eyes, only madness and rage.

Brian turned away and saw that the naked woman had won the battle with the pajama wearer and was currently trying to eat her face. He hurried away, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath a whistle of terror in his throat. There were people everywhere; some running, some fighting, dead bodies on the ground, their eyes open and lifeless just as Flip's had been. He saw a throng of the crazy ones in the parking lot and quickly went in the other direction, toward the chain link fence behind the complex. 

He ran as fast as he could, his feet slipping here and there in the mud, almost going down twice. He made it to the fence and heard an odd noise off to his right. Three bloodied and battered people were racing toward him from that direction and he felt his bladder let go suddenly, filling his rumpled pants with warmth. He leaped at the fence and began frantically climbing up and up, somehow finding a place for his fingers and the toes of his shoes with every lurch toward the top. He made it and was about to swing one leg over when strong hands grabbed his ankle.

Brian shouted out, kicking backward with panicked strength, and felt his foot hit something solid. The hands released him suddenly and he threw himself up and over the fence, falling gracelessly to land on his side. He gasped in pain and rolled over onto his backpack, staring up at the grey clouds above him. It started to rain again at that very moment and he heard the fence rattling as his pursuers climbed up after him.

Nearly whimpering in fear, Brian got to his feet and sprinted toward the road. He heard one of them land in the slick grass behind him and then he was in the street, his feet moving so fast that it felt as if they hardly touched the ground. He reached the other side and heard the squeal of brakes and then a thud. He looked behind him to see that the first one who'd gotten over the fence was now laying off to one side, unmoving. The other two were coming at the driver of the car, an old woman with big glasses who'd opened her door to look out and see what she'd hit. 

She let out a little scream when she saw them coming and quickly got back in, slamming the door behind her and locking it. One of the crazies jumped on the hood of her car and began attacking the windshield, cracking it into a complicated spiderweb with his fists. The other one began hammering at the passenger side window, roaring in thoughtless fury as he broke through on the fourth hit and tried to leap into the car with her. The old woman was still screaming as she reversed suddenly and a delivery truck plowed into the back of her, sending her head into the steering wheel and the crazies flying off in opposite directions.

Brian didn't wait to see any more. He took off onto a side street, a residential area with a lot of run down houses, and kept going, sobbing with every breath as the world around him continued to die an agonizing death.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)
> 
> Headed out of town, Evelyn and Luke run across another survivor and try to lend a hand.

~Evelyn~

She clutched at her midsection desperately, shivering uncontrollably, and watched the town she'd grown up in and loved falling apart around her. The man with the scarred face drove the big truck as if he were born to do it, swerving around wrecks, roaming crowds of those crazy people, and bodies in the road with lightning quick reflexes Evelyn would have admired if the circumstances had been different.

"They were eating her," she said out loud, her voice sounding hollow and emotionless. "We should've helped her. Oh, God, they were eating that girl, weren't they?"

"Yeah, I think they were," the big man with the scarred face replied, never taking his eyes off of the road. They went over a curb and plowed through a small picket fence surrounding the front yard of a little ranch-style house to avoid a three car pile up that was blocking both sides of the street. Once past it and on the road again, he let his grey eyes flick in her direction and then went back to staring at the road. "God, I want a cigarette so bad."

Evelyn felt another shiver wrack her body and repeated, "We should've helped her."

The scarred man frowned and said, "Wasn't a thing we could do for her. If we'd tried we'd probably be just as dead as her now. There were too many of them."

Evelyn began to cry again and rocked back and forth in her seat, feeling nauseous as she recalled the way the man in mechanic's overalls had bitten the poor girl's face like a rabid dog. She'd just stood there, watching it happen as the girl's screams filled the air, helpless to do anything.

"Don't think about it," the scarred man said as if he could read her thoughts. "She's dead but we're still alive. Focus on staying that way, okay?"

"This is just a bad dream," Evelyn sobbed. "None of this is real. I'll wake up in my bed soon and everything will be okay again. This is all a fucked up nightmare and none of this is real."

"It's real," the man said in a stern voice. "Believe me, honey. It's as real as real gets." When she began to sob even harder he continued, "But that doesn't mean shit. We're alive and we're getting the fuck out of Dodge. Pretty soon this will all be behind us."

He swerved around a car in the middle of the road with all of its doors open, a huge pool of blood in the front seat drawing sluggish October flies. There was a hard thump and she heard another body crunching under the tires. She covered her ears with her hands and shut her eyes tight, trying to block it out. She silently wished again that this was only a nightmare.

Evelyn heard screams and opened her eyes to see a young man running full-tilt down the street maybe a hundred yards ahead of them, a backpack swinging wildly from side to side on his back, as a crowd of maybe a dozen people chased after him. One of them stumbled and was quickly trampled underneath, hardly slowing the small mob. The young man was steadily flagging, losing ground, and would soon be overwhelmed.

"Shit, shit, shit," the scarred man said behind tightly clenched teeth. "That kid's not gonna last long."

"Help him," Evelyn said, her hands now digging into her thighs in fear. "We have to help him."

"Yeah," the man agreed. "We'll try anyway."

He accelerated and the moving truck surged forward. She heard something in the back of the truck fall over with a crash and then they were plowing into the mob ahead. More bodies thumping and cracking under them and they were almost on top of the young man. The man driving swerved left and stomped on the brakes, narrowly avoiding the man with the backpack as he dove to the right and hit the road rolling.

They came to a sudden, jarring stop and Evelyn felt the seatbelt lock on her chest, forcing the breath out of her for a moment. Then she was unbuckling and throwing the passenger door open. The young man was just getting to his feet again and Evelyn yelled at him, "Get in! Hurry! Hurry!"

One of the crazies had also gotten to their feet, perhaps only being knocked aside when they'd plowed into the small crowd, and ran straight at backpack guy, closing the ground between them in mere seconds. She saw his eyes go wide and then he was ducking under a swinging arm and sprinting at the moving truck. The maniac, a woman in a bright yellow sweater splattered with gore, stumbled a moment and then followed. Evelyn peeked her head out a little to look behind the truck and saw three more coming their way.

"Come on!" She shrieked, her terror complete now as she looked at the young man once more. "You gotta fucking hurry!"

Backpack guy gave every bit of effort he had left in him, arms and legs pumping, backpack swinging more wildly than ever. Just as he reached the moving truck he launched himself in with a flying Superman leap any pro-wrestler would have been proud to execute so flawlessly. He crashed into the dashboard and Evelyn, his bony elbow hitting her jaw hard enough to make her cry out. 

She didn't let the pain slow her, however, and she jerked the door shut just as he drew his legs in all the way. A second later what was left of the mob began hammering at her door and scratching at the window next to her; the truck just a little too tall for them to hit it with enough force to break it. The moving truck rocked to the left under their combined weight and the scarred man gunned the engine again. He slightly corrected their course to avoid hitting the curb and then they were going down the road once more, leaving those lunatics far behind.

Backpack guy untangled his limbs and got off of Evelyn and into the seat between her and the driver. He looked at her with big, terrified brown eyes and panted in huge shuddering breaths, sweat pouring down his face and plastering his short black hair to his head. The sour smell of his B.O. and something else that she thought might be urine dominated the cab of the truck but Evelyn didn't really care about such things anymore. It was good to see another living person who wasn't trying to kill someone.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice weak and barely above a whisper. "They didn't bite you, did they?" The stubble on his cheeks and chin was sparse but stood out in great contrast with the frightened pallor of his skin.

She rubbed at her rapidly swelling jaw and shook her head, "No. They didn't touch me."

He turned away from her and leaned back against the seat, still trying to catch his breath and slowly getting it under control. "Thank God for that, at least," he said to no one in particular.

There were a few moments of silence and backpack guy finally began to breathe normally again. He turned to look at their savior for the first time and smiled shakily, "I gotta thank you guys, man. You really saved my ass back there."

The man with the scarred face nodded but didn't take his eyes off of the road. "Not a problem."

Backpack guy laughed weakly and turned to Evelyn, "I thought I was gonna be lunch for those fuckers. I've been running forever. At first it was just one guy, then another and another and pretty soon I thought the whole damned town was following me."

"I'm glad we could help you," Evelyn said, not returning his smile. "There was another girl with us before. She...they..."

Backpack guy nodded in perfect understanding. 

"Flip," he said, his smile disappearing. "One got my cousin Flip. Philip. We called him Flip because his little brother used to have a hard time pronouncing his name when we were kids and it just kinda stuck, I guess. Guy bit right into Flip like he was a tasty steak dinner and killed him in front of me. Fat fuck fell down the stairs, broke his leg, and still kept trying to get up like he didn't even feel it." He seemed to realize that he was babbling faster and faster and stopped himself with visible effort, looking at her for a long time with miserable, haunted eyes. Finally, he whispered, "I tried to help Flip, he was my favorite cousin, but he was just...gone."

Evelyn was the one nodding this time. "The bride did the same thing to my boyfriend," she said with a trembling lower lip.

"I'm sorry," backpack guy said.

She shrugged, "He was an asshole but, yeah, I'm sorry too. And about your cousin." She paused and, before the tears started again, whispered, "I'm sorry for everyone."

***

The town was falling behind them now and open fields began to be more common. They'd come across a few areas that were impassable but the man with the scarred face, who'd she'd learned was named Luke, had taken so many twists and turns and had still somehow found his way out to the highway with very little help from his local companions. They'd taken the highway leading east out of town, having to drive on the shoulder a few times and passing abandoned cars as well as a few terrible wrecks. As Gaines fell behind them in the rearview mirror, Evelyn felt a little of her tension finally ease. Pretty soon they would be among nothing but open fields, wind turbines, and the occasional farmhouse.

"Hey," Brian said, breaking the silence that had fallen after they'd finally reached the highway. "Either of you got a phone?"

That made Evelyn notice for the first time that her purse was missing. It had her phone, spare keys, wallet and other useful crap inside. She didn't know when she'd dropped it but it was probably sitting in a puddle in the parking lot of Cup O' Joe's right now. She shook her head at him.

Luke reached into the back pocket of his jeans with one hand and pulled out his phone. He tossed it to Brian and said, "Try it."

"Who should I call?"

"911?" She suggested.

"Yeah, right," Brian said. "Dumb question."

He dialed and put the phone to his ear. Immediately came the doo-doo-doo out of order tone and they all heard it. Brian took the phone away from his ear and looked at Evelyn with a worried expression as he hit the END button. "Well, that's not good," he said.

"Try again."

He did as she said and again came the tone they all knew. He hung up, tried again and again came that increasingly frightening tone. He looked at her once more and said, "This is fucked."

She tried not to let her anxiety show and failed miserably. "We can try again later. Once we're nearer to a different town. Owensville is just twenty miles."

"I'll try my mom," Brian said as if suddenly remembering that he had one. He dialed her number from memory and again came the tone. He groaned and hung up. He tried again, got the same, and sat there holding the phone in his lap, his face dark with worry.

After a moment or two Evelyn held out her hand, "Can I give it a shot? My dad's in Florida but, you know, maybe."

"Sure," he said, handing over the phone and falling silent again.

She dialed her dad's number and instead of the ominous tone she'd come to expect, there was a couple of clicks and then the phone began to trill in her ear. 

"It's ringing!" She said, suddenly hopeful. 

Then, as it continued to ring and ring, she felt her hope begin to die. Her dad could be busy at the moment, she told herself. It was possible that he'd left his phone in his car while he went in to buy groceries or see a movie. He was from an older era and she knew he wasn't as attached to technology as a lot of other people were. He mostly used his phone for calls and texts and didn't always have it on him. He also didn't always answer a phonecall when it came from an area code that he didn't recognize. She hoped fiercely that one of these things was what kept her from hearing his reassuring voice.

There was another click and the voicemail message began. When prompted by the beep she tried to rap out her own message as quickly as possible and still be understood, "Hey, Dad, it's me. Listen, I need you to call me back on this number, okay? It won't be a Texas area code because I'm borrowing it from someone else. I'm on my way out of town because things are going crazy there and, well, I don't know if you've been keeping an eye on current events lately but things are going crazy in a lot of places today. I don't want to scare you but people are dying and there's these freaky people running around b-biting people and just, just, killing everyone who isn't messed up like them. 

"Please, call me back, Daddy. I saw some really bad things and I'm scared out of my mind. I don't know how things are over there but I just want to know that you're all right. Please, call me back as soon as you can, okay? And, please, be careful. Keep your rifle loaded in case things start going bugshit over there too. I'll try to call again later if I can. Be safe and I...I love you so much, Dad."

She disconnected the call and sat with her head down. She thought she might cry but it seemed as if she had dried up since leaving Gaines. She tried to tell herself that it didn't mean anything, that he'd call back soon, that maybe his phone was broken. Anything to convince herself that he was fine. But the phone stayed silent in her hand and she looked down at the dark screen and saw only her own terrified face staring back at her.

I should've called him earlier, she thought. Now I might never hear his voice again. Why do I always have to be so stupid?

Silence so deep that she was sure they could hear the pounding of her heart settled over them, the three of them brooding next to each other as Luke continued navigating the big truck down the mostly deserted highway. 

Brian broke it again when he turned to Luke and asked, "Isn't there someone you'd like to try?"

Luke shook his head, his frown so deep that there wasn't a space between his thick eyebrows any longer. "No," he said, swerving around an overturned truck and horse trailer with the unfortunate creature's legs visibly sticking out stiffly from the crudely twisted metal. "My parents are both dead and I don't really have any other family besides an ex-wife who hates my guts and a half-brother I haven't spoken to in decades. I have a buddy in Dallas but, considering that he does have a family, I'm probably the least of his worries right now."

They passed his phone back to him anyway and he absently dropped it into the front pocket of his flannel shirt. They continued along for a while and Luke was first to speak this time. 

"Why don't you see what's on the radio?" He offered. "Maybe there's some info on a safe place we can go. Surely they'll be calling in someone in authority to lock shit down pretty soon. Emergency shelters, checkpoints; the works."

"That's a good idea," Brian said, reaching for the power button. Static blared and they all jumped. He turned down the volume and tuned down the dial. Finally a reporter's voice filled the cab.

"...inside your homes or places of business. Do not attempt leaving in an effort to contact loved ones for any reason. Avoid the infected at all costs. It is safer indoors and off of the streets. Arm yourselves with whatever you can and fortify your doors and windows with any strong materials you might possess; scrap wood, corrugated metal, even stacking furniture against these surfaces. Prepare emergency provisions, if available, with enough food and water for two weeks for yourself and each person with you."

"Two weeks?" Luke slammed a fist down on his thigh in frustration, his jaw clenched into a hard line. "Two fucking weeks?!? How do they expect people to hold out that long? They're dying like flies out here. They need to quit dragging their asses and do something now."

Evelyn and Brian both shushed him at the same time and he fell silent again, his frown more thunderous than ever.

"...on the road or unable to reach safe haven, the following places have been set up as temporary shelters : in Gaines, St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church located at 511 West Bodkin, in Owensville, Sisters of Mercy Catholic Church located at 212 Poplar Road, in Cedar Grove, Holy Trinity Baptist Church located at 120 Main Street, in Fairfield, SaveLots Megastore warehouse located at 81 Business Circle, in Palestine - "

"Owensville is the next town and I know that church," Brian said, turning down the radio a bit so that he could be heard. "Sisters of Mercy. My grandma lived there and used to go to church every time the doors opened before cancer got her a few years back."

"Lots of windows in that building?" Luke inquired.

He nodded, "Yeah but they're all like narrow as hell with stained glass and that plexiglass stuff on the outside so they don't get kids chucking rocks through them or whatever."

Luke nodded, "Good, good. That and a big heavy door and a few guys with guns should be able to make it pretty defendable for a couple of weeks until the dumbasses in charge figure out how to fix this clusterfuck."

Brian was nodding too, "Hell yeah. Owensville is really just a wide spot in the road anyway so maybe there won't be too many of those freaks." He paused as his face clouded with sudden doubt, "Probably."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Luke's POV)
> 
> Trying to find safe haven in this new world is more difficult than the little band of survivors had imagined.

~Luke~

They approached the tiny town of Owensville at a crawl, swerving around a few wrecks and an 18 wheeler that was burning briskly, and passed the sign declaring that the town's population was just under 1,300 souls. They passed a couple of fast food places and a grocery store where a pickup truck had crashed through the front doors, broken glass shining where it was not dotted and streaked with blood.

"Tell me where to go," Luke said to Brian.

"Keep going straight until you reach Sycamore and make a left," Brian replied. "It'll be coming up here shortly."

They passed a post office, a school, and a bank before the girl called their attention to the empty streets. "No one's out," She said, frowning deeply. "Where is everybody?"

"Maybe they all went home to watch some of that gripping daytime television," Brian quipped. Even though he was able to joke about it, he wore the same worried look on his face as Evelyn did.

Luke had been concentrating so hard on finding their way that he hadn't yet noticed it but even at a glance he could see that she was right. The rain had moved off and the sun had found it's way through the clouds again and nothing in his line of sight was moving; no survivors, no infected, not even a slight breeze to stir the leaves on the trees around them. There were dead bodies here and there but not nearly enough to account for the emptiness he saw. He felt the sudden rise of goosebumps on his hairy forearms and wondered if coming here had been mistake.

"Here it is," Brian told him and Luke made a left and went around an overturned SUV with all of it's windows smashed out.

"Okay, go past the next three lights and make a right on Cypress," Brian instructed.

Evelyn was wringing her hands together in anxiety and said, "This isn't right. We should've seen somebody by now."

Neither he nor Brian replied as Luke swerved around the body of a man in overalls lying facedown in the middle of the road. They came upon Cypress Road and Luke turned right, feeling sweat begin to bead on his forehead.

"Another three blocks and you'll turn left again onto Poplar."

They had to drive up on the curb to eek past a huge four door truck with mud splashed all the way up to the doorhandles that was stopped diagonally across both lanes. Its front end was smashed into a telephone pole and the driver was hanging halfway out of the windshield with what was left of his head resembling a squashed tomato. There were more vehicles blocking their way now as they turned onto Poplar Street, a lot of them just abandoned with their doors open, and Luke had to drive up past the sidewalk on the right hand side, running over mailboxes and low hedges just to get through.

They saw the church ahead, a modest grey stone building with narrow stained glass windows depicting various saints, and that's where the traffic jam was the thickest. The parking lot was completely full and people had apparently driven as far as they could until going in on foot. There was a modern LED sign on the lush green lawn that read, "Revelation 21:4 'He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away'."

The church had been completely overrun. There were corpses everywhere on the lawn, piled up on top of each other in some places, and on the steps leading up to the entrance. The huge oak doors leading into the church were propped open and they could see inside much better than any of them wanted to. More torn bodies and puddles of blood and here were the infected that they'd missed on the way in, maybe not every one but a great number of them to be sure. They roamed around placidly for the most part seeming content with snacking on their families, friends and neighbors. There was no way to tell but it looked as if everybody in town had gone looking for safe haven at the same time before all hell broke loose. Some of the unfortunate people were riddled with bullets and others were ripped to pieces while slow moving flies lifted and settled again and again over everything. Evelyn gasped when they saw a woman step out of the doors and wander away with the severed leg of what had perhaps been a very small woman but more likely a child, chowing down on the torn flesh with ravenous hunger.

Luke had taken his foot off of the gas when the church had come into view and they coasted gently to a stop. They could go no further than the sign because there was no empty space large enough to accommodate them anymore, even lawns and driveways were packed with cars and trucks. All three of the survivors in the box truck took in what had become of the residents of Owensville and the outlying farms and sat in silent horror for a long moment.

"What the fuck makes people do this?" Brian asked in a quiet voice almost too low to hear. "T-to kill and eat each other like goddamned animals?"

Luke passed a shaking hand over his eyes one at a time to wipe away the moisture there, his voice thickened by emotion as he answered,"I don't know. All I do know is that we're getting out of this graveyard before one of those crazy fucks notices us." 

He shifted into reverse and they began to back away from the church. Evelyn's steady sobs were the only sound other than the road beneath the big truck's wheels.

***

At around three that afternoon they came to a stop again about five miles from Fairfield, Texas. Luke slowly tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sat looking at the entrance to the gas station. There were two cars parked in the parking lot and a big truck with an extended cab parked at the pumps.

"You really want to do this?" Brian inquired gently, his eyes still a little red from their awful discovery of Sisters of Mercy.

Luke sighed and shook his head, "No, I don't, but if you guys don't want to spend the rest of your day walking we do need gas."

"What're we gonna do if the owners of those," he nodded at the vehicles outside, "are inside and just happened to develop a taste for a little people-meat today?"

Luke unbuckled his seatbelt, "We deal with it." He looked at them both a moment and said, "We really don't have a choice."

This was the only gas station they'd seen since leaving Cedar Grove almost half an hour ago. Cedar Grove was even smaller but had been just as dead as Owensville, nothing but crazies left as far as they could see and a large portion of the tiny township on fire despite the previous rain, so they'd driven by without stopping. Fairfield was largely a farming community and all around there were big open fields with grazing cattle and cow ponds or, conversely, huge stretches of land covered in trees and underbrush, but the homes had been few and far between. As for an actual town, Luke knew without even asking that it was another wide spot in the road, one of those places that if you blinked you'd miss it. There might be a Walmart, a bank and a post office but there wouldn't be much else.

He reached under his seat and found his little leather case. The others watched as he unzipped it and took out another clip for the 1911. He took the gun out of the docker's clutch and ejected the mostly empty clip already inside. He set it aside on the dash and put in the new one, replacing the loaded pistol under his left arm. He took three more loaded clips out of his zippered bag and stuffed them into his left jacket pocket. He rummaged in the case a moment and fished out five loose .45 ACP rounds. He reloaded the mostly empty clip and placed it into his pocket as well before zipping the case back up and placing it under the seat once again.

"I want you to listen to me," He said to his quiet companions. "We're going in there to turn on the pump and because we need some supplies. First we're going to open the back of the truck and get each of you a gun. Do either of you know how to shoot?"

Brian shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked nervously at the gas station, "I shot my uncle's .22 a few times and went deer hunting with him once but I couldn't hit the target...or a deer. I'm great at first person shooters, though."

"Okay. A shotgun for you, then. You don't have to be Annie Oakley to hit something with one of those." His grey eyes shifted to look at the girl. "And you?"

Evelyn nodded, "Well...yeah, this is Texas. People out here get their first guns before they even get a learner's permit, for God's sake. My Dad insisted I learn how to handle one when I was thirteen or so. He said a lady should know how to protect herself. He even gave me a little .38 when I got my own place but I just keep it on a shelf in my closet. I haven't gone target shooting since he moved to Florida but a few years ago I could hit whatever I was aiming at usually nine times out of ten." She shrugged and looked down at her hands. "He bragged about it sometimes."

"Shooting a person is a lot harder than shooting paper targets but it's good that you have some practice anyway," Luke told her. "Aim for the center mass and you should do all right. Brian and I are going to get out and you're going to stay here with the truck. Once we're inside, I want you to pull up to one of the pumps and wait. Don't get out for any reason. If you see someone coming I want you to honk twice so be sure to keep a sharp eye out, okay?"

Evelyn nodded and said, "Okay, I can do that."

"Good," Luke took his gun out again and looked to Brian once more. "You ready?"

Brian looked back at him with eyes that were widened with fear but he said, "Yes. Let's just get this over with."

Luke nodded and opened the door, stepping out of the cab and moving aside so that the younger man could follow. Evelyn slid over into the driver's seat he'd vacated as they shut the door and hurried around to the back of the moving truck.

Luke pulled up on the lever to run the door up on its track and both of them jumped at the sound, which seemed very loud in the quiet afternoon, trying to look in every direction at the same time. When no infected came charging at them, Luke and Brian stepped up into the back of the truck. There was a smashed lamp and his night stand lying over on its side but otherwise everything he'd packed up four days ago was right where he'd left it. He moved to the left where there was an odd assortment of his possessions; a bookcase, a trunk full of clothes, a battered old recliner with duct tape on one arm. He saw green canvas and reached over to grab one handle of his old army-style duffel bag. He lifted it with an audible grunt of effort and set it at his feet.

Luke bent down, both knees popping like firecrackers, and unzipped the bag. He found his Remington automatic 12 gauge and took out a box of shells. As he began loading it up with shells he told Brian in a low voice, "These are buck shot so it'll kick like a mad bastard but it holds five shots so you should be good to go as long as you can hang onto it."

Brian still stood in the doorway, keeping a lookout behind them, "I'll manage."

Luke took the box of shells and the loaded shot gun to the boy and said, "Put some of these in your pocket." 

As Brian stuffed his pockets with big red shells until they bulged, Luke showed him the safety and where to load it. He gave him the shotgun and went back to his duffel bag and found his Ruger Redhawk 357 revolver. He loaded it with a practiced hand and stuffed it into the back of his pants. The box of bullets went into his empty jacket pocket and he zipped the duffel bag again before putting the strap over his shoulder. It was heavy, the duffel bag held a lot of rounds and almost every weapon he owned other than his deer rifle, but he felt better having it even though the considerable weight made his lower back ache.

They left the back of the truck and stepped out into dull sunshine again. After shutting the door they returned to the driver's side and he gave Evelyn the duffel bag. She set it in the floorboard on the passenger side, struggling visibly with the weight and odd bulk of it. Then he handed over the Ruger. He was about to explain how to use it when she popped open the cylinder, nodded when she saw that it was loaded, and snapped it shut again with an expert flick of her wrist. It went on the seat beside her and when she saw the bemused expression on his face, smiled faintly and said, "I learned on these. My dad's a big fan of revolvers."

Luke smiled back at her and it transformed his scarred face into something that was almost pleasant to look upon. Then it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. "He and I have that in common. Do you remember what I said?"

"Pull up to a pump and wait. If I see anyone coming honk twice."

Luke nodded and took the box of 357 rounds out of his pocket. He handed it over and said, "One more thing, if you see it start to go bad for us I don't want you leaving this truck under any circumstances. I know you're a decent shot but I don't want you trying to help out and get yourself killed. If we can make it back to you we will but if not you get the hell out as fast as you can, understand?"

He noticed her hand drift to her belly and now there wasn't a trace of a smile left on her face either. "I understand."

"Okay," Luke nodded at her. "We're going to grab all the food and water that we can and gas up before we leave. You just sit tight and keep an eye out. This won't take long."

"Be careful," she told him.

He nodded back at her and turned away as she closed the door once again. They started toward the gas station's entrance and everything was still, not even a bird singing to break the quiet that had fallen over everything. Across the highway was one of the forested areas and he envisioned a league of those crazy people swarming out of cover toward them. He knew it was ridiculous but he felt sweat beading on his forehead and trickling under his arms as they reached the door, still trying to look in all directions at once. 

He didn't know what awaited them inside but he knew that if they didn't get this done they really would be walking. There was only a quarter of a tank of gas left and who knew where they'd be when it ran out completely? He supposed they could siphon gas out of other cars if nothing else but that would require a hose that he didn't have. 

Pulling open the pneumatic door, he offered a silent prayer to whoever was listening that they would all get out of this in one piece.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Brian's POV)
> 
> Being in a gas station has never been so terrifying. 
> 
> I mean...unless you've actually worked in one before.

~Brian~

The door shut behind them with a hiss of air and they took in what lay before them. Everything seemed more or less in its place at a glance but if you looked closer you could see that a few items were knocked down in the aisle closest to them and there was a pair of crushed eyeglasses at the end of the same aisle. A broom was lying on the floor next to the rack of gum on their left and there was a long bloody smear on the otherwise shining counter next to the cash register. So far there were no people that they could see.

Brian's hair was once again soaked with sweat and the shotgun in his hands shook constantly. He could smell the rank odor of his fear and the large amount of blood somewhere they couldn't see yet and thought that he might throw up. His stomach had been churning for the better part of an hour and the only reason he hadn't yet was that he hadn't eaten since the day before. They stepped cautiously forward, vigilantly scanning the interior of the store around them, until they reached the long counter.

As Brian peered over the edge, he saw more blood pooling below and found the clerk lying just under the register. She had bright coppery red hair and freckled arms and her face was gone. Only a red crater remained where it had been and he quickly looked away, gritting his teeth and trying to will his stomach into submission, thinking, I won't puke, I won't puke, I won't puke.

Luke reached across the counter to the big black keypad next to the register that controlled the pumps and looked back to see what pump the girl had pulled up to. She'd chosen the one directly across from the entrance and he keyed in the pump number. They made their way to the soda machine and as they passed the aisles with candy and chips, Brian noticed that a rack of snack cakes and cookies had been knocked over. There was another bloody smear on the floor among the sugary treats and his heart began to pound even louder in his chest.

"Somebody's here," Luke whispered almost too low to hear.

Brian realized that the thumping he'd heard was not his heart, it was coming in the direction of the bathrooms. Luke pointed that way and then held a finger to his lips. They moved forward, past the fountain drinks and several coolers full of beer, and approached the bathrooms warily. The sound was definitely coming from the men's room on the left and Luke carefully pushed open the door with one trembling hand.

It opened soundlessly and they immediately saw the man standing between the urinals thumping his head against the tile wall again and again. There was no way of knowing how long he'd been at it but the tile his head smacked into was badly cracked and smeared with filth. His blood streaked arms dangled at his sides and he never paused his strange obsession as they entered; he was totally oblivious to their presence.

Luke pointed his gun at the man and deliberately cleared his throat.

The man spun around faster than Brian would've believed and he saw the familiar red bib of blood on his shirt that all the crazies seemed to wear. He'd beaten his head against the wall so many times that a large purple knot had risen just below his hairline and it shone in the harsh light from above like some exotic egg. The man raised his hands, his face contorted into a sneer of hate, and lunged for them.

Luke shot once and the right side of the man's neck tore open in a shower of blood. He went down on his back from the force of it and, as he struggled to rise once more, Luke shot him again under his left eye. His brains splattered the floor in a fan of grey and red and he fell back, this time not moving. Brian's ears were ringing so bad from the shots that he was effectively deaf but he didn't really mind. As long as the nut was no longer a threat, that was enough for him.

They checked the stalls and found nothing so they went back out into the store interior.

There was a hugely fat woman standing just off to the right of the door when they stepped out and she grabbed Luke by the arm, snarling and snapping for his face. Catching both of them utterly by surprise, her teeth came within six inches of Luke's nose before he could really react.

Luke shoved against her, breaking her surprisingly strong grip on his forearm, and then hit her across the face with the butt of his gun. They both heard her nose crunch under the metal and now it leaned decidedly to one side, almost lying on her cheek as blood poured down over her chins.

She roared with insane rage and swung at Luke's arm as he brought his 1911 up to shoot. The gun was knocked from his hand, spinning away underneath one of the aisles, and he let out a cry of dismay. Instinct took over and he snatched two big handfuls of the frizzy blond hair on either side of her head to hold her back just as she lunged for him again. Brian stood there frozen, unable to react as Luke struggled mightily to keep her rapidly snapping teeth away from him.

"Brian, shoot her!" He cried out, grunting with effort. "Get this crazy cunt the fuck off of me!"

Brian finally reacted, bringing the shotgun up and pointing it at her giant drooping belly. He pulled the trigger and nothing happened.

"The safety, goddamn it! You have to take off the safety!" Luke was still holding her back but she had to weigh at least 350 pounds and her heavier weight was winning the fight. Her hair began slowly ripping out in Luke's fists and the clicking of her teeth was very loud as she gnashed them together, still trying to bite him.

Brian's hands were shaking so badly that he almost dropped the 12 gauge as he fumbled with the safety. The little red dot was showing now and he socked the barrel of the shotgun right up under her breastbone, between her enormous heaving boobs. He pulled the trigger and this time the gun went off in his hands, the noise muffled considerably by her big body.

The fat lady's snarling cut off instantly as the back of her cheap rayon blouse belled out and a spray of blood, muscle, organ and bone fragments exploded out of her back; painting the door of the women's restroom behind her. Luke released her hair and she fell backward with a heavy thud. When the remains of her ruined torso hit the floor with a wet smack, Brian felt water filling his mouth and turned aside just in time to avoid vomiting all over Luke. Nothing much came out but sour stomach acid yet he continued to dry heave a long time, the shotgun held out stiffly before him. 

When his stomach finally settled he looked over for Luke and saw that he had retrieved his gun and held it down at his side, waiting for Brian to be finished. "I'm sorry," he said to the older man sheepishly, wiping at his mouth with the back of one hand. "So fucking gross."

Luke said, "At least you didn't miss."

Brian chuckled weakly despite his roiling guts. "Funny."

Luke shrugged and said, "Let's start loading up as much as we can and get out of here."

They searched around a moment and found some sturdy black trash bags in the cupboard under the fountain drink machine. They each took one and went through the place, stuffing them with water, prepackaged sandwich halves, jerky, crackers and granola bars; everything they could get their hands on that would stick to their ribs the longest. They each filled their bags to the point that they were almost too heavy to carry and started for the door leading out. 

They pushed open the door and stepped outside. As they approached the truck, Evelyn rolled down the window and leaned out, "You guys okay? I heard shots."

"We're fine," Luke said, moving toward the back of the truck without slowing. "Nothing we couldn't handle." Then, to Brian, "Start pumping the gas, I'll load this stuff up in the back."

Brian set his bag down and looked up at her, "Couple of those freaks inside. One almost got Luke."

She paled considerably, "Oh."

He started pumping the gas and heard the back door of the truck running up on its track again. Moments later Luke came back for Brian's bag and slung it over one shoulder with a sigh. He was a big guy, built like a brick shithouse as his mama might've described him, and he was definitely strong as an ox but he looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and he seemed to have aged a little bit in the short time that Brian had known him; his longish black hair looking like it had more grey at the temples than before.

"You okay, man?" Brian asked, not feeling so okay himself. His stomach was empty but still not completely steady inside him.

Luke nodded wearily, "Just peachy." Then he disappeared from sight again. Brian finished filling the tank and hopped into the cab with Evelyn.

They heard the door in the back going back down and then Luke closing the latch again. He came around the side and got in behind the wheel. 

"Let's hit the road," he said, seemingly more to himself than anyone else, and started the engine once more.

***

Ten minutes later they came to the town of Fairfield. It wasn't much of a place; a feed store, a gas station, a mom and pop diner, a courthouse. Much like Owensville, there wasn't a lot to see. There were a few infected that they passed but mostly the town was empty.

They finally came upon the SaveLots Megastore warehouse that had been mentioned as a shelter by the radio announcer and found the building surrounded by the infected. The windows were either too high to reach from the ground or unbreakable and every door leading in or out was closed tight. A group of maybe thirty maniacs were standing around the huge metal door in the loading bay and another ten or so were doing the same at an unmarked side door. The main entrance was a glass encased lobby but the shatterproof glass protecting it was completely blocked by more infected, their battered bodies shifting and lurching over every inch. Some of them hit the glass continuously, ramming into it again and again until they fell down bloodied, but Brian didn't know if they were trying to get in or if they were just messed up the same way the guy in the gas station men's room had been.

"Do you think there's people alive inside?" Evelyn asked as they slowed on the road to have a look.

"Maybe," Luke answered. "It's possible, anyway. Though I bet we couldn't get in without a code or key card of some kind."

"Or without killing half the town," Brian said miserably.

"At least they can't get in," Evelyn said, nodding toward the crowd.

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "But the people inside can't get out."

They drove on and soon the sun began to make it's long, slow descent in the West. The shadows grew longer and pooled more deeply around them and when they came upon a rundown motel off the highway maybe ten miles out of town, Luke slowed the truck again. One level, squat and painted an ugly split-pea shade of green, the motel had seen better days; sitting there in the gathering shadows like a fat toad.

"It's going to be dark in a couple of hours," Luke said, his eyes looking over the motel. "There might not be another place to stop before then. What do you two think?"

Brian and Evelyn looked at each other for a moment before turning back to him. "I don't know," Brian said doubtfully. "Maybe we'd be safer sleeping in here."

Evelyn chewed her lower lip and looked around. The only other building in sight was another gas station next door that was dark and utterly deserted, everything else around them was either densely wooded or farmland. "I don't know what to think about it," she said finally. "But sleeping in this truck seems like the wrong idea when there's real beds in those rooms."

"There are only two cars in the lot," Luke said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel once more. "Maybe there won't be any of them here."

"Maybe," she echoed doubtfully.

"We can't stay in this truck," Luke told them. "There's too much that we can't see at night. A small crowd of those freaks could be on us before we knew it."

"So...are we going to do this or...?" Brian was still nervous but what Luke had said about the infected sneaking up on them undetected had served to convince him.

"Yeah," he said, taking a deep breath and shifting into drive again. "Let's see if we can find a key card in the lobby and go from there."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another new POV character. 
> 
> Desperate times can bring out the best and the worst in people.

~Mickey~

They watched the box truck approach the lobby of the motel and come to a stop just outside the door leading in. The men in white blood splattered prison jumpsuits stayed crouched down behind the old truck they'd been trying to break into and watched as a big man in a black jacket got out of the driver's seat. Another man, younger and much smaller, got out on the same side behind him and he held a shotgun in his hands.

"They're armed," hissed Hector Rojas, his long jet black hair shining in the sun as he shook his head and tried to stand. "Uh-uh, no way. I'm not getting shot because you want to be an idiot."

Mickey Connelly flashed a smile full of slightly crooked teeth and one tattooed hand gripped the shorter man's shoulder, forcing him back down to a crouch. "Don't be so scared," he scoffed. "Look, they're going inside."

The men pulled open the lobby door and went in, guns at the ready. The person they'd left behind had slid across the seat to sit behind the wheel, the engine idling as he peered after the ones who had departed.

"One fucking guy," Mickey said through the clenched rictus of his smile, his shaven head gleaming with sweat. "It's just one guy. We'll toss him out and be gone before the other two know what's happening."

"No," Hector said again, "They've got guns and we don't. After all the shit we've been through today, I'm not dying over a stupid fucking truck."

Mickey's green eyes glinted with contempt as he eyed the older man, "You pussy." 

A moment later he was on the move, running crouched over and angling steadily toward the moving truck, trying to get on the guy's blind side. He expected to hear shots ring out any moment and his smile grew as he made it to the passenger side without being seen. He stayed crouched low under the rearview mirror and waited. When gunfire came from the hotel lobby he reached up and grasped the doorhandle, pulling it open, the click muffled by the boom of the shotgun inside.

His heart thundering inside him, he rose and jumped into the cab in one movement. Too late the lookout turned, bringing up a gun, and Mickey grabbed his skinny wrist and yanked it up toward the roof of the cab. The gun went off maybe a foot away from his head, making their ears ring painfully, and Mickey raised his free hand in a large, hard knuckled fist.

Then he got his first real look at the person behind the wheel and hesitated. It wasn't a man after all but a woman with huge blue eyes, her mouth turned down in a grimace of pain as his other hand gripped her wrist hard enough to make the bones inside grind together.

"Drop the gun!" He barked at her.

She shifted in her seat a little as if to do just that and then her free hand shot forward in a small fist to land between his legs. He cried out in excruciating pain, his greens eyes bulging from the force of it, but didn't release her wrist. Instead, he bent it backward savagely until she was the one crying out in anguish.

His unoccupied hand cupping his throbbing balls, he leaned over so that they could see each other eye to eye. "I said drop it!"

Incredibly, she smiled at him though the pain in her wrist must have been unbearable and said, "Fuck you!"

Then her free hand tried to strike him again, this time in the face, and he barely caught that one in time, trapping her hand in his much larger one. He had to admire the fight in her at least. 

"Do I have to break your wrist before you'll listen to me?" Mickey panted, his balls throbbing so badly that a part of him actually wanted to do it.

"Pinche pendejo," Hector said from somewhere behind him. "Let that girl go. I told you not to do this shit."

"Back off," Mickey growled at him without taking his eyes off of the woman, choosing to ignore the warning tone in the other man's voice."We need this truck."

"No, you don't," said a much deeper voice from behind him. 

He felt the cold circle of steel that could be nothing other than a large caliber handgun pressing against the back of his head and hurriedly released the woman. He raised both hands and tried to turn but the man behind him made a tsk-tsk sound and he felt the barrel press harder into his skull.

"Should've listened to your friend here," the big guy said. "Now you're gonna die because you're a dumbass."

"Wait!" Mickey said, licking at his trembling lips. "Just wait! I swear to God I wasn't trying to hurt her. All I wanted was the truck." He hated the pathetic whine he heard in his voice but he couldn't help it. He was nearly pissing his pants with terror. "We just wanted to get the hell out of here."

The younger man spoke up then and Mickey knew that there was also a shotgun pointed at him, ready to go off the moment he made a wrong move, "You came from prison? From Huntsville? You got one of those white jumpsuits with the numbers on the back of it, so you must be."

"Y-yeah, that's right," Mickey said, his words almost tripping over one another in their rush to leave his mouth. "We were on a transport bus when everything went to shit. Crazy fuck ran out in the road and the dumb prick driving tried to go around him and slammed into one of those semi trucks hauling ass next to us. It was bad, lot of us got banged up, some of us died. The driver of the truck got out, I guess to check on us, and that fucker we avoided on the road grabbed him and started chewing on him like it was 'Night of the Living Dead'. So we grabbed the keys from a dead guard and unlocked our chains and got outta there. There were a few more guys with us when we started out but I guess we were running too fast or they got lost because after a little while it was just me and Hector. We were on a farm road maybe fifteen miles from here and ran through a lot of fields until we saw this place."

The big man grunted, "Dumb motherfuckers always have the best luck. If you wanted to get out of here so bad why didn't you just ask us for a ride?"

Mickey was nonplussed. He hadn't seen that as an option. "Can we get a ride out of here?"

"Now you ask nicely?" The big man chuckled humorlessly. "You really are stupid, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Mickey said, whatever pride he may have had deserted him as soon as that circle of death had been pressed into the back of his head. "I honestly didn't think anyone would be willing to help us."

"That's still up for debate," the big man said. "And right now I'm debating with myself about whether or not I should put a bullet right through your skull and be done with it."

"I was in for aggravated assault and possession of a controlled substance," Mickey said, his words still coming out all in a rush, faster than ever. "Hector over there killed the guy who was fuckin' his wife, which I kinda understand, but I didn't kill anyone. I'm not a murderer. I'm not a bad guy; neither of us are. Maybe I am a dumbass but I'm just trying to survive, man. I thought ya'll would probably rather shoot us than talk to us. I mean, come on, we're wearing prison whites covered in fucking blood and guts and I don't know what else, the whole world's going batshit trying to eat each other, so I'm sorry if I didn't think I could rely on the kindness of strangers."

The big man grunted again and was silent a moment before saying, "Evelyn, you're the injured party here. What do you think?"

He saw the woman eyeing him warily; seeing his sweaty terrified face, his prison tats, his wild, staring eyes. She was going to tell them to shoot him, he knew, pull him out of the truck and execute him right there in the parking lot. He prayed to a god that he no longer believed in that he wouldn't feel it. Just a bang and then blessed nothingness.

Rubbing at the wrist that still held her gun, she said, "Asshole tried to take the truck and leave us here with nothing." She looked into his eyes for a good long time as if she were trying to read what was behind them and he held his breath in anticipation, hoping that she would see something good there; hoping himself that there was something good there. 

"He's an idiot but he's not trying to bite us so...I guess we could give him a chance." She finally aimed her pistol away from him but never broke eye contact with him. "Just know that if you ever touch me again I'm going to shoot you myself."

"Sure, sure," Mickey agreed, a nervous half-smile twisting his trembling lips. "And I'm sorry. I fucked up."

"Yeah, big time," the man said, finally removing that cold circle of steel away from his head. 

Mickey shuddered with relief and slowly lowered his hands. "Listen, thank you so much for giving me another chance," he said to the woman the big man had called Evelyn. "I swear to god I'll never do anything like that again."

Her eyes were still looking at him speculatively but they seemed a degree or two warmer than they had a moment ago. 

"It's all right. Just don't be an idiot," she said.

He nodded and then stepped out of the truck. Quick introductions were made and then the big man, Luke, said, "We got the master key card from that guy we shot in the lobby so we can open any rooms we want." His hard grey eyes shifted from Mickey to Hector and he continued, "We'll rest, eat, and see if we can figure out what to do next."

Everyone agreed and then they were moving the truck down to the far end of the motel parking lot. They opened a room with two beds on the lowest level and went inside with Luke's bag of guns and the two bulging trash bags of supplies they'd taken from the gas station.

Brian was appointed lookout and sat at the window peeking out behind the heavy drapes, munching on a candy bar while the others sat around the tiny table in four equally tiny chairs, drinking and eating.

Still chewing on a piece of jerky, Luke grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. An episode of 'All in the Family' came on and Archie Bunker was doing his thing. He switched through the channels rapidly until he happened upon a cable news talk show hosted by a handsome African-American man in his early 50's. Bold red text at the bottom of the screen read, 'Zombie' Virus or the End Times?

"You're saying that this is viral, then?" The host asked.

Another man, this one Caucasian, with glasses perched on his long blade-like nose and brown hair sticking up in the back, who the sudden text appearing below his image identified as Dr. Moreau, nodded, "It appears so. After conferring with many of my colleagues, we believe it to be a mutation of the lyssavirus; or rabies, as it is more commonly known. So far the symptoms we've observed in those affected by the virus, such as extreme aggression, involuntary muscle spasms and confusion, closely resemble rabies symptoms. The apparent method of delivery of the virus is quite different, however."

The host leaned forward and asked, "How so?"

The man in glasses ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up even worse, and cleared his throat before answering, "Rabies is spread through a transfer of fluids like saliva and blood, typically through bites from an infected animal. This virus, though, appears to be spread from person to person through airborne or surface contact, much like influenza or H1N1. Furthermore, rabies and the flu have an incubation period of days or even weeks. This virus, however, appears to mature almost instantaneously in the people who are susceptible to infection; which, in our estimation, could be anywhere between 75 and 90 percent of the population."

"Holy fucking shit," Mickey said from his place between Hector and Evelyn. "Is it really that bad?" He was shushed by the others, none of them taking their eyes away from the television screen, and fell silent again.

The host of the show was frowning, a deep groove appearing between his carefully sculpted brows, "So you're saying that this 'Zombie Virus' is a possible combination of rabies and the common flu? How could that happen?"

Dr. Moreau took a drink of water from the glass next to him and breathed deeply before answering, lacing his fingers together on the table in front of him, "If you had asked me this question a week ago I would've said it couldn't. I would've stated that while something like this can and has happened, a cross-breeding of viruses where an entirely new virus carrying characteristics from both can infect a host and thrive, it would not be probable with two that are so different on a molecular level. You would likely end up with a dead virus, something unable to reproduce in a host's cells and pass on to others. In answer to your question, I don't know for certain whether or not this is a hybrid of those particular viruses but that if it is, I believe that this couldn't have occurred without human interference."

The host's eyes narrowed on Dr. Moreau, "So you're saying that...?"

The doctor met his gaze without flinching and said, "This did not occur naturally. It was created by someone and released, either accidentally or intentionally."

The host seemed to take this in for a moment, still frowning, and then turned to the other man at the table. "Reverend Houghton, your thoughts?"

The plump, red-cheeked man with a thin mustache and a garish turquoise suit began to spout his rhetoric with great vehemence, lots of hand gestures and shouts of "Our Lord above!" punctuating his speech.

Luke turned off the TV and sat with his head in his hands. Evelyn held one protective hand over her belly with a far away look in her eyes. Brian fidgeted with the seam of his soiled pants with shaking fingers. Hector made the sign of the cross and his mouth moved in silent prayer. 

Mickey only felt dazed and a little sick to his stomach, thinking, 75 to 90 percent. If it's really that bad, we're probably all fucked.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)
> 
> Coming across another survivor, Evelyn and the others learn that things are not always what they seem.

~Evelyn~

They spent the rest of that long day taking turns keeping a lookout at the big window and watching more cable news. There were more reports about outbreaks in other cities in the southern half of the United States and they discussed quarantine efforts that seemed to be failing. On a map of the US they had marked the areas where the infection was most prevalent in varying shades of red; lighter meaning fewer infected and darker meaning more. 

California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Florida and South Carolina were all a dark maroon. The other states grew lighter and lighter to the north but there were some darker areas throughout, suggesting that soon they would be fairing no better. The unsettling map made it look as if the entire bottom half of the country had been dipped in blood that was quickly spreading upward to the other states in darkening tendrils.

No one spoke much to one another but each of them tried to call loved ones again and again to no avail. Not a single one of them was met with anything other than the out of order message. When Brian tried to use the internet browser it failed to connect every time, kicking them off with a message that read, "Oops! Something seems to have gone wrong! Check your internet connection and try again." It appeared that those services had ceased to exist.

About an hour after sunset, they all decided that they would try to get some sleep. Luke said he would stay awake and keep watch and wake someone in a few hours to take his place so they all bedded down for the night. Evelyn took a bed and Brian climbed in with her while Hector took the other bed and Mickey chose the floor, using a spare pillow and blanket they'd found in the tiny closet next to the bathroom. 

She was uncomfortable with a stranger in bed beside her but lying back to back made it a little less weird. Brian had also showered and washed his pants and underclothes so he didn't smell as bad anymore, for which Evelyn was grateful. 

It's the small things in life, she thought humorlessly as she shut her eyes and snuggled deeper under the cheap comforter. She didn't think that she would sleep but minutes later she was drifting off, the deep physical and emotional exhaustion she felt making it surprisingly easy.

***

Someone shook her shoulder roughly and she came awake with a start, one moment there was nothing but sweet comforting darkness, and the next she was staring into the frightened green eyes of a stranger.

Mickey was leaning over her and in the glow from the bathroom light they'd left on, she could see that he looked scared. "Get up," he told her in a low voice, his face so close to hers that they could've kissed. "Something is going on outside."

She flung the covers off and sat up without a word, the fear coming back to gnaw at her insides almost instantly. She saw the others gathered at the edges of the big window, peeking from behind the drapes, and grabbed the Ruger from the night stand beside her. She went to stand by Hector and he moved aside a little so that she could get close enough to see too.

They'd parked the moving truck right outside of the room so the first thing she saw was that. Then something shifted in the unsteady lights from the parking lot and she made out a human form. It was leaning against the hood of the truck and it's shoulders were shaking.

"Is it one of the infected?" She whispered.

She felt Hector's shoulder shrug against her, and he whispered back, "Don't know."

She watched the figure closely, trying to angle her breath down so that she wouldn't fog the glass, and waited. After a moment the figure raised it's head and she saw the sheen of long blonde hair. The head moved toward the window and she saw the other woman clearly for the first time. She looked young, maybe her age or even younger, and she was crying; she could just make out the faint sounds of her sobbing her heart out. She was crying and alone in the dark and Evelyn couldn't stand it a second longer.

She stepped away from the window and moved for the door. Her hand brushed the knob and then Luke was there, taking her arm by the elbow and pulling her away. "What're you doing?" He hissed at her, his grey eyes as hard as stone. "You can't go out there."

She looked up at him. She noticed again that he was really a huge guy (taller and much broader than Jason had been), maybe 6"4 and around 230lbs, and his hand was equally huge but he gripped her gently, obviously not trying to hurt her but not wanting to release her either. The scarred flesh of his face that took up the entire right side shone in the thin light from the bathroom and she thought he looked scared.

"That's a girl," Evelyn hissed back, her brows coming together to scowl at him. "And she's out there crying. What if she's hurt? What if she needs our help?"

"What if she's one of them?" Mickey whispered from only steps away.

She turned to glare at him, "Did you hear any of those maniacs crying? I didn't."

"That doesn't mean she's not one of them," Luke whispered back, drawing her attention to him again. "We don't know anything for sure. She could be crying one minute and try to bite your throat out the next."

"We can't leave her out there."

"The fuck we can't," Mickey countered.

"Look, if she's infected, I'll deal with it," Evelyn gestured to the door with the 357. "But I'm not just leaving her out there alone like that. I can't."

Luke looked at her for a long moment as if measuring just how stubborn she could be and then sighed in resignation. "Fine," he drew his 1911 from beneath his left armpit. "But you're not going out there alone. You stay behind me, understand?"

Evelyn nodded and then he was grasping the knob and slowly opening the door with his gun held up and ready. He stepped out and moved to the left, toward the crying woman. Evelyn followed and she could hear the woman's shuddering breaths between sobs.

"Hey," Luke said in a low, cautious voice. "Hey, lady, you all right?"

The woman didn't react.

He stepped closer, "Can you hear me?"

Still nothing but her continuous sobbing.

Evelyn stepped around him, her gun held low at her side, and now she tried, "Do you need help?"

The woman's face turned to Evelyn and their eyes met but the woman's eyes were glazed over and she thought she wasn't really seeing her. Evelyn stepped closer and reached out to touch her shoulder. "Come on," she said gently. "Come inside with us. It's okay."

The sobbing woman slid one foot forward and Evelyn took her cold hand in hers. She lead her to the room and the woman came willingly, plodding along slowly on unsteady feet, still crying. Luke followed and shut the door behind them while Evelyn led her to the table and helped her sit down in one of the little wooden chairs there. The woman was only wearing a light nightgown and slippers, her skin was as cold as ice and her thin lips practically blue. They put a blanket around her shoulders and tried to make her warm up.

"Can you tell me your name?" She asked the crying woman. "Where did you come from?"

But the blonde woman just went on sobbing. The others tried, one by one, to coax her into speaking but she didn't respond to any of them. In fact, she seemed not to be aware of their presence at all. Upon closer inspection, Evelyn began to get the uneasy feeling that something was seriously wrong with her. 

The woman's eyes were unfocused and far away and they never changed no matter what you said or did. She wouldn't eat or drink unless you held it up to her mouth for her; chewing and swallowing seemingly on instinct alone. Her tears finally tapered off after a long while and she sat in a slump, staring at the wall next to her with her mouth slightly hung open and drool slowly gathering at one corner before slipping down over her chin. She didn't make a sound once the crying stopped and she didn't move, just sat there staring and drooling, never seeming to blink. Her red-rimmed eyes seemed just as empty of humanity or intelligence as the infected they'd encountered earlier in the day.

Evelyn took Luke's hand and drew him away from the others toward the motel bathroom. Chewing her lip for a moment and looking up into his worried face, she wondered just how big of a mistake she'd made. "I don't think she's like us," she told him finally. "I think she might be infected after all."

Luke nodded, "I think so. Something is definitely wrong with her and it's not just shock." He rubbed at his unmarred cheek with one hand and she heard the rasp of his stubble against the rough skin of his palm.

"Maybe symptoms of the virus are different for different people," she said, thinking out loud. "Like with a cold. Some people get aches and chills and some don't. Some people will run a fever, some won't."

"I don't know," Luke said. "Maybe. Either way she's got to be watched. Things could change."

"Yes," Evelyn agreed, thinking of the bride as her snarling mouth filled up with Jason's blood. She knew how quickly things could change.

***

She woke the next morning and the first thing she saw was Luke lying next to her, snoring softly. She rose, stretched, and sat up. She saw Hector in the other bed and the vague lump of Mickey on the floor. Then she looked over to the table they'd eaten at last night and saw Brian, who was supposed to be on lookout as well as babysitting duty for their strange discovery in the night, snoozing with his arms crossed over his chest and his chin resting on his breastbone.

The seat across from him held the blanket they'd wrapped around the weeping woman but the woman herself was gone. Evelyn felt an anxious twist in her stomach and hurriedly snatched up the gun again. She wanted to call out for the woman but her throat had closed and her jaw was locked shut tight in terror. Her heart began to beat hard and fast in her chest and she mentally cursed herself for her soft heart as she stood from the bed.

She scanned the room quickly, which was easy because the room was rather small, and still didn't see the woman. Evelyn saw that the door was still locked from the inside and knew then that there was only one other place she could be. She walked toward the closed bathroom door and saw from the gap underneath that the light was still on. She tried the knob with her left hand and it opened easily.

Sitting on the closed toilet lid was the weeping woman. Blood from her sliced throat had soaked her nightgown, changing the peach colored fabric into a dark scarlet, and puddled beneath her in a large pool. The broken piece of mirror that she'd used to do the deed lay just below her dangling right hand and glinted cruelly in the overhead light. Her eyes were open and staring at Evelyn, already clouded with death.

Evelyn finally found her voice and woke the others with her screams.

***

An hour later they were all in the moving truck again, Luke driving, Evelyn in the middle and Brian on the passenger side. Mickey and Hector were riding in the back and Mickey hadn't liked that very much when Luke told him. She'd seen the glint of anger in his eyes but he'd remained silent, climbing into the back with Hector and sitting against one side. She didn't know if Luke had noticed but he hadn't said anything either.

No one had spoken much since Evelyn's discovery of the crying woman. They'd just packed up everything and moved to the room next door to eat and wash up, leaving the woman on the toilet with her eyes still staring and her throat gaping in that horrible red smile. Evelyn had tried all morning not to think about her but the harder she tried the more the thoughts returned. 

How can someone do that? She repeatedly asked herself, not really wanting to know. Just open their throat and not make a sound? As they made their way down the mostly deserted highway she kept seeing the image of the weeping woman again and again, feeling cold even with the heater pointed directly at her.

At around noon they came to a crossroads, nothing but trees and empty fields around as far as they could see. Luke took the east road and soon they came to the small town of Worthy. Much like Fairfield and Owensville had been, it was deserted except for the dead and the infected. They came to the remains of another shelter, this time a feed store, and saw more death and destruction.

"All dead or crazy," Brian said in a voice that was sad and hopeless. "People who didn't wake up wanting to eat their neighbor went to shelters and the infected followed them."

"Do you think any of the shelters made it through the night?" Evelyn asked.

"Some did, I'm sure," Luke said, his eyes watching the infected still milling about the area and eating the already stiffening dead. "Not everyone had such bad luck. Remember the warehouse? They were buttoned up tight."

Brian mumbled a half-hearted agreement and fell into morose silence once more.

Evelyn said nothing, only watched the infected closest to the truck. She noticed with little surprise that at least three of them were wandering around crying just like the woman had been last night. The aggressive infected paid no mind to the weeping ones just like they paid no mind to the truck as it pulled up or when it drove away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Luke POV)
> 
> Luke and the others find a few surprises in a farmhouse.

~Luke~

They pulled up to the low gate and saw that the road leading up to the large farm house was deserted. They'd been driving for hours trying to find other sane people only to see more of the same aftermath of chaos and he was exhausted deep down to his core. They'd fueled up again at a gas station not long after leaving Worthy and acquired more supplies without incident but seeing nothing but the infected and the dead had begun to wear on Luke just as it had on the others.

They'd taken some time before leaving the gas station to talk about where to go, all of them agreeing that staying away from large cities was the right idea. So they thought they'd find someplace far away from anything, a nice farm with enough room for everyone, and now here they were.

All around there were the same dense areas of trees or open fields and nothing on the road was moving other than them. The house was too far away from the gate to make out clearly but Luke could see that it was large, two stories, with a detached garage and a barn off to the right. 

He turned to Brian and said, "Why don't you see if you can get that gate open?"

Brian nodded and hopped out with Luke's shotgun in hand. He went to the gate, found the chain and began unwinding it from the loops that held the gate and surrounding fence together. He draped the free end of the chain over the top of the gate and began pushing it back, his battered sneakers squelching in the viscous mud. Once it was pushed back against the fence he ran back to the moving truck and hopped in.

Luke drove the truck down the little paved lane leading to the house and as they pulled up they saw the back end of a big muddy truck behind the right hand side of the house.

"Looks like someone came home in a hurry," Luke said more to himself than anyone else.

"You don't see anybody, do you?" Brian asked, his brown eyes scanning the property rapidly.

"No." 

Luke wanted to offer a word of encouragement to the young man but found that his own sense of hope was lacking at the moment.

They were pulling up to the big house now and all was still. Luke shut off the truck and for a few moments the only sound was the engine ticking slowly as it cooled. The three of them stared at the big farmhouse, looking for any signs of what they could expect to come next.

"I guess we'd better get out and take a look," Luke said, sounding as if he wanted to do anything but that. He pulled out his gun and checked the clip. Satisfied, he snapped it back in and looked at the big white farmhouse once more. "We have to be careful though. It's a big place and who knows how many of them could be in there."

"What're we gonna do with the guys in back?" Evelyn asked. "Are they staying in the truck like our last gas station run?"

Luke shook his head, "No, we need them this time. You stay here like before and keep an eye out. If you see anything give a honk and keep that 357 close, right?"

Evelyn nodded, "Right."

Luke and Brian got out of the truck with their weapons in hand and hurried to the back of the truck. Luke opened it up, explained to the men inside what was going on, asked them about their shooting skills like he had with Brian and Evelyn, and then went about the business of arming them.

Mickey, who hadn't spoken much since their grisly discovery that morning, seemed to perk up a little once Luke placed a Browning Hi-Power 9mm pistol in his hands, saying, "Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" 

Hector got a Taurus Model 66 and thanked Luke, being careful to check if it was loaded and taking the extra .38 bullets that he was offered.

"Why do you have so many guns?" Mickey asked as he stuffed the extra clips in his pockets. "You some kind of collector?"

"Something like that," Luke said. 

In a way, he was a collector but mostly it was his long-time hobby of restoring guns. Most of them he owned had been defective in one way or another when he bought them, usually at pawn shops but sometimes from private owners, and he'd spend hours and hours at a worktable in his kitchen ordering parts (sometimes even making them himself if the gun was antique and parts were unavailable), repairing them, oiling and cleaning them and restoring them to like-new status. He hadn't been taught how to do it; he just had a love of working parts and guns so the two went together beautifully. A man has to have some hobbies to keep from going nuts, he'd always believed. Also, it didn't hurt that he'd made quite a bit of profit selling them from time to time.

As they were approaching the front porch, Luke said, "Hector, Mickey, you two are going to check the downstairs and Brian and I will take the top floor. Sound good?"

They all nodded in agreement and then Luke was turning the knob on the front door, a little surprised that it wasn't even locked. It opened into a dark sitting room with gingham couches and lots of potted ferns.

Moving through the room, their footsteps seeming very loud even on the carpeted floor, Luke spotted an alcove that led to a much darker stairwell. He pointed with one hand and broke off in that direction, Brian close on his heels. After scanning the corners, Luke mounted the stairs and began to ascend.

Going up he kept one hand on the rail, hearing Hector and Mickey's careful footsteps as they moved through the lower level into a different room, and felt a large bead of sweat roll down one side of his big nose to sting his eye. He ignored it and kept moving, listening intently for any sounds above.

He reached the landing and found himself in a semi-dark hallway. Three doors to the left and three to the right. Then he heard it. Scratching.

Luke and Brian both froze in their tracks, Brian with only one foot up the upper level and one still on the last step, and then there was a sudden crash from below. They both jumped and heard Mickey hiss, "Shit!" loud enough to wake the dead. But there were no shots, and only the soft murmur of voices somewhere below so it seemed that all was well on that end anyway.

On their level, however, the scratching had intensified and now there was a low whining noise accompanying it; the sound almost too low to be heard over the rapid scritch-scritch of fingernails on hard wood. Luke thought it was definitely coming from the room at the far right of the hallway. He turned to Brian and held a finger up to his lips. Brian nodded, the shotgun visibly shaking in his hands, and they began to move that way. A moment later and they had reached the door. The scratching was louder than ever and Luke's left hand gripped the burnished knob gently, silently.

He opened the door quickly and then let go, aiming high, before something jumped out at him from below his waist. Something soft and furry hit his chest and he was nearly knocked over in surprise as a big wet tongue swiped at his stubbled chin.

It was a dog. A healthy looking Blue Heeler with black, white and brown peppered fur and mismatched eyes; the right one icy blue and the left one a deep chocolate brown.

Luke caught the dog as it continued to excitedly lick his face and wag it's shaggy tail. "Hey," he said, smiling with relief. "Hey, girl. You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"

The dog licked him again, a big wet one right across the mouth, and Luke chuckled a little before gently setting the dog down on its paws again.

"Jesus Christ," Brian said in a shaky voice. "I thought it was one of those maniacs. I almost shot the damned thing."

Luke scratched behind one of the dog's perky black ears and said, "That would've been a shame." He'd always liked dogs. "Now that that's out of the way, let's finish what we started."

They entered the room to find the master bedroom. A big canopy bed with a blue rose patterned bedspread and a little TV set up right across so that you could lay in bed and watch dumb sitcoms or the news before turning in for the night. There were a couple of dressers and a vanity mirror and a small chest but that was about all as far as furnishings went.

The dog whined sharply and Luke and Brian turned to see it walk over to one of the two closed doors in the room, the one nearer to the bed. It stood on it's back legs and began to scratch there, digging it's short claws even deeper into the already gouged surface. There was a soft yellow glow coming from under the door and two distinct dark spots that looked like feet. The men exchanged a glance and then Luke moved forward as the dog backed away.

Holding his gun up once more, Luke opened the door and the first thing he saw was the bulging eyes of a dead man in a blue button up shirt. He'd hung himself from the clothes rod with a short length of paracord, a slipknot around his throat at one end and a large haphazard knot tying the other end to the thick metal rod. The man had tied it and then let his knees sag, letting gravity do the work of slowly killing him.

"Damn," Brian said from somewhere over his left shoulder. "That's fucked up."

Luke looked over the bruised purple of the man's face, at the tongue protruding from his darkly swollen lips, the tiny burst blood vessels in his clouded eyes, the subtle gray at the temples of his short brown hair, and felt a deep twinge of sadness in his gut. It was impossible to tell for sure but, other than the fact that he was dead, Luke could see no physical ailments that might have plagued the dead man. No broken leg, no turned foot or withered arm; nothing that might have prevented him from surviving. It seemed as though this man had simply given up.

The dog whined again and Luke grasped the door knob to shut the closet door and hide this gruesome sight once more. As he did something caught his eye.

There was a photo of a woman taped to the back of the closet door. A woman with curly brown hair, kind green eyes and a wide, warm smile. Taped up next to it was a hastily printed note that said, "I'll be with you soon, Becca. All my love." Below that it was signed in cursive with an unsteady hand. The initials A and B stood out clearly but the rest of the man's name was indecipherable. 

He shut the closet door and they went about the business of checking the rest of the top floor. They went just as cautiously as before only to find nothing but a study, a couple of guest bedrooms and a bathroom in the hall in addition to the tiny one in the master bedroom. As they were getting ready to go back down they met Mickey and Hector coming up the stairs. 

"Oh my God, that's a dog," Hector said, a huge smile instantly erasing at least ten years from his slightly weathered face. He bent down to pet the dog and check it's mint green collar. "Hello there, Jack, my boy. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I seen one of you? That's right! Too damned long."

Jack's tail wagged faster and faster and he did his best to lick every inch of the man's exposed skin as Hector rubbed the dog's semi-shaggy fur with real delight. 

"Anything else up here?" Mickey asked, the Browning held down at his right side as he gazed at the spectacle of Hector and his new best pal.

"Dead guy hanging in the closet of the master bedroom," Luke said with a sigh. "Anything downstairs?"

Mickey shook his head and looked at Luke, "Nope. Kitchen, dining room, living room, bathroom; the usual. No crazy fucks or dead ones either."

Luke felt as if a weight had slipped off of his shoulders. At least there wouldn't be another pair of dead eyes staring at him for a while. 

"Good," He told the younger man. "We got lucky then. We'll bury the owner out back before he begins to stink and start seeing about fortifying this place. From what I've seen of things so far, we might end up being here for a while."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)
> 
> I don't think anyone's actually reading this so I'm not bothering with chapter summaries anymore.

~Evelyn~

She was looking through the meager contents of the pantry when she heard a footstep from behind her. She turned, expecting Luke, and instead saw Mickey freshly showered and wearing some poorly fitting clothes that had belonged to the dead man who'd owned the house.

"Hey," he said, his green eyes meeting her blue ones. "I just wanted to thank you."

Evelyn cocked an eyebrow in a puzzled expression, "For what?"

"Your friend would've shot me if you hadn't told him not to."

She shook her head and said, "I don't think Luke would have really shot you."

Mickey stepped closer to her, his broad shoulders blocking her sight of the house beyond the pantry, and asked, "You don't think so? How well do you know him? You old friends or something?"

"No," she said. "I met him yesterday, same as all of you. But...I would've died if Luke hadn't been there in that parking lot. One of those infected people killed my boyfriend and she would've killed me too but Luke shot her."

Mickey showed her empty hands and shrugged, "I'm not saying he's a bad guy. I think he's a hero, really. But I think back on it, the way the barrel of that huge fucking gun felt pressed into the back of my head, and I still think he would've shot me. I mean, how many other people did he shoot yesterday?"

"A lot," she admitted in a quiet voice. "Ran over some of them, too. He saved Brian when he did that."

"He definitely would've shot me," Mickey said, letting his arms rest at his sides once again. "Considering the dumb shit I tried to do, I probably would've shot me, too. Anyway, Luke may have saved you and Brian but you saved me, Evelyn." He paused and looked away from her as if embarrassed, "After what I tried to do to you, you let me come along anyway. Even if Luke hadn't shot me I would've had no chance out there unarmed and alone. I owe you my life." His eyes met hers once again as he said, "Thank you."

She opened her mouth to tell him it had been more Luke's decision than hers but he raised a hand and cut her off, "Look, there's no need to make this any more awkward than it already is. I came here to say something to you and now I have so I'll let you get back to what you were doing." 

Then he turned around and left, leaving her standing there still holding a can of pork and beans in one hand.

***

It was around six that evening when Evelyn went out onto the front porch with two cups of freshly made coffee. She found Luke sitting in an old rocking chair cleaning his 1911. He saw her coming and squinted up at her through the smoke from the lit cigarette poked into the corner of his mouth. She guessed he must've helped himself to a couple of packs at the last gas station they'd been to before finding this place.

She held out one of the cups and said, "I thought maybe you could use some. It's pretty good. Gourmet, I think."

He smiled and she noticed how the right side of his lip curled up in an unusual way due to the puckered scar tissue covering the cheek above. "Thanks," He said, reaching out and taking the mug she offered.

"I didn't know how you liked it so it's just sugar," she said. "I could bring you cream if you want."

"Just sugar's the way I like it," he said, still smiling as he sat the steaming cup on the little wooden table next to him. As she took the empty rocker to the right of him he asked, "How you been doing?"

She frowned and looked down into the cup of coffee she held in both hands. "Well, I'm not dead," she said. "That's a lot more than some people can say."

Luke grunted and ashed his cigarette. "Yeah, I suppose so." He paused a moment. "Sorry. Never been good at small talk even before the world went to hell."

Evelyn shrugged and said, "It doesn't matter. I always hated it myself."

Luke chuckled and sipped at his coffee. He made an appreciative noise at the first taste of it and said, "Gourmet. Hmm, nice."

They sat on the porch in the gathering gloom in silence, Evelyn rocking gently and sipping at her coffee and Luke concentrating mostly on cleaning his gun. After a few more minutes of watching the clouds roll by overhead, she asked, "Have you seen any other cars going down the road?" He shook his head so she asked, "What about any of those crazy people?"

"No, nothing moving as far as I've been able to see. It's been very quiet out here." He slid the little brush out of the barrel and then peered down into it. "Haven't even heard an engine of any kind all day. Couple of jets flying overhead but nothing on the ground. We got lucky finding this place."

"Yes, we did," Evelyn agreed. "We all got very lucky yesterday, too. Let's hope that lasts."

"You're worried about your baby, aren't you?" Luke asked.

Evelyn almost smiled. She'd already been sure that he knew. He'd been in the coffee shop when she told Jason and he'd been so adamant about her staying in the moving truck at every stop they'd made.

"Yes," she said in answer to his question. "I'm very worried about my baby. It's all I can think about."

Luke was silent again for a long time, smoking and drinking his coffee, and finally said, "I know that you don't know me and I don't know you but I swear to you that I'll do whatever I can to keep you and your little one safe." He took another drag off of his smoke and confided, "I would've had me a little girl once but she...she didn't survive coming into this world."

Evelyn felt the sudden sting of tears in her eyes and blinked them back rapidly. She didn't know how someone could handle something like that. She suspected that it would take a certain resilience that she lacked. She wished with all of her might that she'd never find out for certain. 

"Maybe I don't know you," she said, her voice trembling a bit despite her effort to keep it even. "But you saved my life, my baby's life, Brian's life, Mickey's and Hector's too. The fact that you would be willing to do that, risk yourself for complete strangers, tells me all I need to know about who you are. You're a good man, Luke. I can't ever thank you enough for the things that you've done."

He reached out and covered her right hand with his. "I don't know if this is the end of the world as we know it," he said, that crooked smile back on his face again. "But the only way people are going to survive is by helping each other. So you're welcome. I'd do it all again if the need should arise."

She nodded and felt the tears roll down her cheeks while he politely turned back to his gun. She wiped her eyes after a minute and finished her coffee, feeling almost as much at ease as she had before she'd found out about the baby. Then she went inside to see what she could find to feed everyone for dinner.

***

Night came on that second night and Evelyn found herself alone in an unfamiliar room staring at an unfamiliar wall patterned with vines of ivy. Moonlight streamed in from the windows and she could see the top of an old oak tree with leaves that were more orange than green in the window closest to her. The wind blew outside and the leaves rattled in the tree and she wished that sleep would come as easily as it had that first night when exhaustion took over.

She tossed and turned a few more minutes and finally she decided that she couldn't take it anymore. She sat up, looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was ten minutes until midnight.

Sighing, she drew the covers off of her legs and stood. She was wearing a navy blue T-shirt with red lettering across the front that read 'Gulf Shores, Alabama' with a picture of a cartoon starfish underneath that she'd found in the guest bedroom dresser as well as a pair of old grey sweatpants with a drawstring cinched tightly about her waist so that they couldn't fall off. She made her way to the door of the bedroom and opened it, her bare feet making no sound on the carpeted floor beneath them. The hall was dark and she kept one hand on the wall to keep her footing as she found her way to the stairs.

Evelyn descended quietly and came to the little alcove that led to the sitting room on one side and the dining room on the other. She went through the dining room, passing a big cherry wood table and matching chairs, and through the archway and into the kitchen. Luke and Brian sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen on padded bar stools drinking beer.

"Hey," Brian said to her. "Couldn't sleep?"

She moved to a cabinet and found a small glass. "No," she answered as she got a half empty carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator and poured herself some.

"Want a beer? That might help. There's some in the crisper."

"No, that's all right," she said, smiling as she replaced the orange juice. "I never developed a taste for it."

"Suit yourself," Brian said amiably as she came to sit down between the two men.

"I'm guessing the two of you are also finding it difficult to find the sandman tonight?" She asked, looking from between Luke and Brian and back again.

"I'm on watch anyway," Luke said with a shrug.

"Do you think we should be worried?" Brian asked him, his eyebrows coming together in a look of concern. "We're way the hell out in the sticks. There's a whole lot of space between us and those people-eaters, right?"

Luke took a swig of his beer and said, "I don't care if we're on the moon. After what I saw yesterday we can't get far enough to make me feel entirely safe ever again. We'll keep a lookout posted at all times, keep lights to a bare minimum when the sun goes down and keep this place buttoned up as well as we can." He gestured to the wood they'd nailed across the window over the sink as well as the other windows around them. It wasn't much, just a board or two on each, but it was enough to slow someone trying to break a window and come inside. "And we'll see what we can do about making this place more defendable. We'll dismember that barn board by board if we have to. This is a start but I don't feel safe when I can see so much open glass staring back at me."

Brian and Evelyn both nodded in agreement and they all sat together with their elbows brushing one another's; strangers and yet somehow not as much as before.

"So what did you do?" Brian asked Luke. "How do you come up with all this shit so quick? And that bag of guns...were you, like, Special Forces or something?"

Luke swigged his beer again and lifted the sleeve of his white T-shirt, disclosing his upper right bicep and a faded tattoo of black letters reading USMC. 

"I was a Marine for a little while," he said as he rolled his sleeve back down. "Then I was a bouncer at a night club, I did some security work and some roofing. The guns are a hobby. I buy the ones no one else wants, fix them up and either keep them or sell them to other collectors. I was on my way to another security gig my friend had set up. Supposed to be a fresh start." He laughed suddenly, bitterly, and Evelyn thought that he might be on his way to getting drunk.

"I worked at a movie theater," Brian said, twirling the green bottle of his beer between his hands. "For a while, anyway. Then I worked at a gas station. Then a burger place. Lately I've just been doing whatever I can. Well...I did anyway." He frowned down at his beer and then took another long swig.

"What about you, Evelyn?" Luke asked. "No, let me guess." He snapped his fingers. "Kindergarten teacher."

She shook her head and tittered at that, "No points for you. I sold ad space for small time magazines over the phone. Things like 'Country Home and Outdoor' and 'Dentistry and Orthodontics Monthly'. I hated it. I spent all day on the phone talking about fonts and headings and subheadings and how many words you could conceivably fit in a five by five inch square. Riveting stuff, huh? But at least the bonuses were good."

"Damn," Brian said. "That's a whack ass job. You shoulda been a dominatrix."

Something about that tickled Evelyn and she laughed, really laughed, for the first time in a good long while. It came out of her without warning, a light bubbly sound, and she was surprised that she could still do it. She'd seen so many bad things in such a short time that it seemed wrong in a way, laughing like that when so many others would never get to do that again, but she couldn't help herself. She was alive, still alive somehow in spite of everything, and it felt good to laugh.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mickey POV)

~Mickey~

He woke that early morning on the third day to the smell of bacon cooking. Immediately his mouth began to water and, after taking a long satisfying piss in the hall bathroom, he hurried downstairs to the kitchen. He found Evelyn and Hector standing by the stove chatting as Jack sat close by, surely drawn by the bacon smell. Mickey smiled at them in the bright sunshine streaming through the windows, feeling like he'd just somehow walked into a painfully pleasant dream. 

"Hey," he said, coming closer. "That smells fantastic."

Evelyn smiled back at him and turned to flip the bacon,"It'll be ready soon." 

The flames beneath the frying pan licked up around the side and she turned it down a little. Jack watched intently with his mismatched eyes and licked his chops in anticipation. Mickey nearly did the same.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen bacon cooking in a pan like that. Or a woman standing over a stove cooking it, for that matter. It had been at least as long as he'd been inside so around seven years, give or take a little. Seven long years since he'd seen anything other than the same ugly mean-natured assholes he'd seen every other day. 

All at once it was as if Mickey saw every feminine quality the woman before him possessed; the swell of her hips and breasts, the softness of her shoulders, the subtle curve in her back and the small, perfectly formed fingers on her hands. He swallowed thickly as she pushed some of her long brown hair behind one ear, exposing the soft line of her jaw and throat. His heart fluttered oddly in his chest and he felt a sudden disturbance in his groin. 

Some great need in him had begun to stir and slowly awaken; something that had been only hibernating rather than truly dead all this time. It was almost frightening how strong the urge to do something stupid came upon him.

He turned away hurriedly, feeling guilty even though he'd done nothing, and went to the refrigerator for a drink. He spied a can of soda on the bottom shelf and drank about half of it in one huge gulp. He belched loudly and turned to watch the others again.

Hector was stirring eggs in a big bowl with a fork and laughing at something Evelyn said while she took the crisped bacon out of the pan and placed it to drain on a plate lined with paper towels. She laughed too and the sunshine falling on her hair was like a halo around her bowed head, turning the deep brown into a brilliantly shimmering bronze, making him feel that disturbance behind his fly once again, much more strongly this time. 

He looked away, frowning, thinking, You're a fucking idiot, Mickey. Might as well wish for pigs to fly.

Yet his eyes kept returning to her again and again, even as they all sat around the dining room table and ate breakfast together. He watched as she ate, as she fed the dog some of her scrambled eggs, as she talked with the kid and Hector and the guy with the messed up face. She wasn't exactly beautiful but she had a certain prettiness even now with her hair unbrushed and her clothes three sizes too big. He thought it was especially true whenever she smiled. 

By the time breakfast was over he had to excuse himself to go take a cold shower, quickly leaving the table and turning his gaze away from everyone. He hadn't noticed that the entire time that he'd been watching Evelyn at the table, Luke had been watching him too, the frown on his face getting deeper and deeper.

***

Mickey sat on the living room couch flipping through channels and finding more of the same nothing. Half of the channels were broadcasting a high-pitched sound and a black screen with an emergency broadcast banner running constantly listing locations of several shelters throughout the state. The rest of them were just blank and one or two of them were infomercials. 

Even at the end of the world they'll try to sell you some new miracle of modern science for poached egg lovers, he thought.

The only channel he could find with a living human being on it was on one of the Christian networks. An old man in a stained grey suit possessing wild staring eyes read loudly from the book of Revelation. He worked himself up into a frenzy and shouted at the camera about hellfire and brimstone; his haggard face running with perspiration and his thin cheeks flushed a bright pink from the exertion his sermonizing required. 

Mickey changed the channel quickly. He'd heard enough of that shit growing up, thank you very much. All throughout his childhood his mother had dragged him into that awful Church of Christ and he'd heard the same thing. It hadn't done anything to help his temperament then and it didn't now. If there was a god that would allow the world to come to this, Mickey didn't really want to know Him anyway.

He flipped through the channels rapidly again as if something else would magically appear on it and, sighing in disgust, he turned it off before flinging the remote at the television. It bonked off of the screen harmlessly and landed on the braided rug before him. 

He sat there staring at the little black rectangular object where it rested in a patch of sunshine and thought, What I wouldn't give for a little mindless entertainment. I'd even settle for something supremely awful like those Kardashihoes right now.

"Nothing good on?"

Startled, Mickey jumped and turned to see Luke standing in the doorway to the right and slightly behind him. The big man had one hand in his pocket and the other was picking at a loose thread on his shirt. 

"No," Mickey said, his frown becoming a scowl. "Unless you want to hear about how you're going to hell when you die."

Luke finally plucked the loose thread from the seam of his faded black shirt and flicked it away. "Listen, I have something to tell you and I don't think you're gonna like it very much," he said, turning his slate grey eyes to look at Mickey for the first time.

Mickey tried to keep an open mind but judging solely by the expression he gleaned from the side of the big guy's face that didn't resemble chewed gum, he thought that Luke was probably right. The mounting frustration he felt inside made him answer more curtly than he'd intended, "Yeah? What's that?"

"You need to keep your distance from her," Luke said, those odd grey eyes of his rock-steady on Mickey's.

He felt his stomach drop suddenly and hot blood crashed into his cheeks. He certainly hadn't expected that but, trying to recover somewhat from his initial surprise, he said, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," he said, also frowning a little now. "She's just a kid. She doesn't need to get mixed up with you."

Mickey was on his feet before he knew it but he stopped himself from stepping any closer to the older and much larger man. It was more out of a sense of guilt rather than fear, however, and in the back of his mind he knew it was ridiculous but he still couldn't help himself. He felt as though he'd been caught peeking at her undressing rather than just admiring her smile.

"That's a hell of a thing to say to somebody," he said finally, his voice roughened by anger and his cheeks still flaming guiltily. "Who the fuck are you? Her dad?"

"I don't have to be her father to not want to see that girl get hurt," Luke returned in a perfectly calm voice. "Maybe it's not my place to say this but I will anyway because I'm not sure about you. You say you went to prison for possession and assault but how do I know? The first thing you did when you saw her was to damn near break her arm and steal the truck she was sitting in. Prisoner or your average happy-go-lucky asshole, that kind of behavior can tell you a lot about a man."

He was right, Mickey knew. He'd fucked up from the start. Rather than trying to justify it, he said, "That was a mistake and I shouldn't have done it, I know. All I can do is say that I wouldn't have tried to hurt her then and I damn sure have no intentions of hurting her now. Not her, not you, not anyone. Seriously, man, all I want to do is keep living."

Luke looked at him for a long moment before shrugging one shoulder and saying, "Okay. I guess that'll have to do."

He turned and walked away and Mickey watched him go with the red in his cheeks finally fading. The guy was an abrasive fuck at times but Mickey supposed that he was too. He'd meant what he said, though, he didn't want to hurt anyone. Not even that prick.

***

Mickey made it a point to talk to Evelyn at lunch and dinner, to be friendly but not overly so, and soon the strange guilt he'd felt before was gone. He could look at her now and it was okay because she was looking back at him. It didn't feel secretive anymore.

He glanced at Luke a few times and found that he wasn't even paying attention to him. He took that as a good sign.

***

That night was a different story. He started to think about her again, tossing and turning in the bed while Hector snored peacefully a few feet away on the twin bed identical to his. He could still see her smile every time he closed his eyes and, growing more and more agitated, he started to be mad at Luke at the same time.

It's because that asshole said that shit to me, he thought. The fucking nerve of that guy.

If Luke had kept his mouth shut he would've been perfectly content and he wouldn't be finding sleep so elusive at the moment. Maybe he would've thought about her, quietly jerked off, and gone right to sleep; not feeling a thing about it. Instead he felt like he'd been disrespected and been too stupid to realize it at the time. So what if he looked at her and liked what he saw? It wasn't wrong and it didn't mean anything other than he had a dick that still worked. He'd spent a lot of time not seeing a woman, any woman, and it would've been hard not to stare after so long. 

Fuck that guy, he thought, grinding his teeth together without even being aware that he was doing it. I'm not some sick pervert for just thinking about it.

He was working himself up more and more as time slowly passed and still sleep would not claim him. A bitter seed of resentment had been planted in his gut and taken root; destroying his peace of mind. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and got out of bed. He'd seen the beer bottles in the trash that morning and thought that if he got a little buzz going he'd feel okay again.

So he made his way downstairs and heard a movie playing in the living room at low volume. The kid was on watch, he knew, the prick wouldn't take his eyes from the window when it was his turn. He'd probably bitch the kid out if he knew.

Mickey didn't care about that, though, he only cared about beer and how good his first taste of it in seven years would be. He made his way to the kitchen and the first thing he saw was her bent over and looking into the fridge. The shape of her hips made him almost groan in frustration. It was like god was laughing at him.

He must've made some sound because she turned around and saw him, her eyes perfectly visible in a shaft of moonlight. 

"Hey," she said with a little half-smile on her face. "I thought you were Brian."

"Nope," he said as he forced himself to move toward her as naturally as possible. "Just came for a beer because I can't fall asleep."

She moved aside but held the refrigerator door open for him, "I thought I spied an apple down there. There wasn't but you're in luck. I think there's three of those left."

Mickey nodded and bent down to get a beer out of the crisper. It was some imported stuff from Mexico that he hadn't ever seen before but it hardly mattered. Beer was beer. He grabbed one and then saw the apple she'd been looking for. He grabbed that too and stood up, turning to hand it to her.

She smiled at him again and he smiled back as she said, "Awesome. Thank you."

Their fingers brushed against each other's as she took the offered fruit and Mickey relished the feel of it, brief though it was. He wasn't surprised to find that he began to experience the same throb in his groin as before.

He thought she would take the apple and go but she followed him as he made his way to the island in the middle of the kitchen. They both sat on bar stools opposite of each other and Mickey popped the top of his beer and had a long drink, closing his eyes tight. 

He belched, murmured an apology and then said, "Damn, that's good."

She chewed her apple and shrugged one shoulder, the neck of the shirt slipping down and exposing the bare flesh there for a moment before she reached over and absently pulled it back into place. Mickey took another long drink and already he could feel it going to his head a little. Warmth spread on his cheeks and he felt himself relax a degree or two. Here he was drinking a beer and looking at a pretty lady; two things he couldn't really imagine doing only four days prior.

"Have you been having nightmares too?" She asked him, turning the apple to poke at a mushy spot. "I had one last night. A bad one. I'm kind of scared to go to sleep because I don't want to have another one."

Mickey could feel the beer buzzing in his head on the third swallow and he wasn't surprised that there wasn't much left now. It tasted fantastic.

"Don't be afraid of bad dreams," he told her. "It's your head's way of clearing out the useless junk that gets stored up inside. I read that somewhere."

Evelyn nodded, "That's probably right. It's a stupid thing to worry about anyway with everything that could happen when I'm awake. Reality is just as bad."

Mickey grunted in affirmation and finished his beer. He found that it was much easier to look at her now that the alcohol had dulled everything. She was pretty, sure, but it didn't matter one way or the other now. All he wanted was another beer.

He got up to get another one and came back with half of it already gone. He was on his way to being drunk and it was a fine feeling. He smiled and saw that now she was the one staring at him.

"Are you okay?" She asked, holding her half-eaten apple in one hand. He thought she was even prettier in the soft light of the moon.

"I'm fine," he said and took another drink. "Just a lightweight. It's been a really long time since I've had anything stronger than root beer."

Her face pinched together in a worried expression, "Maybe you should call it quits after that one, then. You're too heavy for me to carry you upstairs and put you to bed."

Mickey laughed at the image of that and said, "It's okay. If I pass out here just cover me with a blanket and leave me." Evelyn watched him take another drink and he met her eyes with his. "I think you're right, though. I'm going to quit after this one. Scout's honor."

She shrugged noncommittally and said nothing. When she finished her apple and he finished his beer, they both stood to dispose of their refuse. On the way to the trash can he stumbled and suddenly she was there right next to him. He felt her hand grip his elbow to steady him and she plucked the empty beer bottle out of his hand. 

She tossed it in the trash with an easy underhanded throw and then she was turning to him, "If I let you go are you going to be all right?"

He nodded, "Sure." But his speech was a little slurred and she frowned.

She released him and he almost fell again. She caught him and said, "That's it. Come on, you're not sleeping on this floor, it's tile and it's cold. You'll get sick."

He didn't resist as she put one of his arms over her shoulders and helped him stand straight again. His dangling hand brushed the top of her left breast and he could feel the warmth of her skin underneath the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Despite being completely sauced, he felt himself stiffen in his pants almost immediately.

She lead him out of the kitchen and into the dining room and with his considerable weight leaning on her she was huffing and puffing pretty good by the time she got him to the stairs. Then slowly up the steps they went, one at a time, with both of them holding tightly to the rail the whole way. He could smell the clean scent of her sweat, hear her panting in his ear and feel her shallow breathing on his neck. He couldn't remember a combination of such simple things ever feeling finer.

They made it to the top and he could feel her muscles shaking now. She must've been exhausted but she didn't give up, just walked him down the hall a step at a time, and soon they were at the door that led to the room he and Hector were sharing. She opened the door and helped him inside.

Finally reaching the bed, she helped him sit and then sat beside him, panting and sweat staining the collar of her shirt. Mickey looked appreciatively at the way the fabric clung to her and then promptly fell over. His head spun and he felt a bit sick to his stomach.

"I've never seen a man get so drunk off of two beers," Evelyn said to herself in a tired, bemused voice. She reached down and undid the laces of his shoes and pulled them off, first the left and then the right. Then, to Mickey this time, she said, "I bet you'll sleep like a baby now. I'm sure I will too after this." Then she chuckled softly and stood from the bed.

Mickey watched her silhouette move through the darkened room toward the door, realizing in his slow, drunken way that he was already halfway to being in love with her, when sleep finally took over. Less than a minute later he was snoring deeply.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Brian POV)

~Brian~

Two uneventful days passed and by Friday October the 15th, Brian began to feel hopeful that the worst was over. They'd spent the time peacefully; reading, eating, playing fetch with Jack, talking to one another, playing with a deck of cards Hector found in a kitchen drawer or the board games Luke had found in a cabinet in the sitting room. But really it seemed like a lot of waiting around so when Luke suggested going out to other farms to look for more supplies, Brian readily agreed. Even though he had some of the good shit, his beloved Xannies, in his backpack to help pass the time he knew he had to ration it (he'd already checked the medicine cabinets there and found nothing stronger than aspirin). He didn't know if it was just the thought of being cooped up or if it was the thought of eventually being cooped up without being able to get high that did it but he was starting to feel more than a little stir crazy.

So they all piled into the huge extended cab truck that had been parked behind the house, the keys having been procured from the dead owner's pocket the day that they'd buried him, and headed out in search of another farm. Evelyn and Luke had argued about her coming along; she said she didn't feel safe being left there alone and Luke didn't think it was safe to bring her with them. Brian had suggested that Mickey or Hector stay with her and that had caused Luke to finally give in. 

Less than twenty minutes later they were pulling up on a big, rambling one story farmhouse with siding that might've once been a jaunty yellow. An old barn with peeling red paint sat off about two hundred yards to the left side of the house and a blue Chevy Silverado with a dent in the driver's side door was parked out front.

There was a dead man lying facedown in the driveway next to the truck, severely bloated and crawling with ants, less than four feet from the grill of the truck they were in and maybe six feet from the front porch. Brian looked away, feeling sick, and saw that the others were doing the same. Everyone but Luke, who wore the same grim look of determination he'd been wearing all morning.

"I'm going to be sick," Evelyn said from directly behind him, covering her mouth with one hand and hugging Jack to her with her free arm, obviously hanging on to her breakfast with every last bit of willpower that she had.

Brian turned around to look into her eyes and said, "It's okay. Just don't look at it."

She nodded and tried to smile but it curdled before the corners of her lips could even begin to curl upward. Luke had opened the driver's side door and the smell of the dead man hit them and almost bowled them over. Evelyn and Brian both heaved suddenly and it was a miracle that neither of them threw up on the other.

"Goddamn, that's bad," Mickey said in a nasally voice as he pinched his nose shut with two fingers. "Worse than a dead skunk."

"Yeah, but he isn't going to start smelling any better the longer we sit here," Luke said, stepping out of the old truck with his 1911 in one hand. "Let's see if we can find anything in this shithole worth taking."

Brian, Hector and Mickey followed, stepping out onto the gravel driveway behind him and spreading out in a thin line. Evelyn got out only long enough to move into the driver's seat, Jack close on her heels, and then quickly shut the door again.

"Mickey and I are going to do a sweep of the house first to see if there's anyone inside," Luke told the men gathered around him. "Once that's done we'll start gathering whatever supplies we can. Brian, you and Hector go check out that barn. If it's open, take a look around and make sure no one's there, then come back to find us. Got it?"

They all nodded and split up; Luke and Mickey heading toward the house and Brian and Hector heading for the dirt path that trailed off toward the barn. Brian heard one of them breaking a pane of glass on the front door so that they could reach inside and unlock it and Mickey said something to Luke but Brian was moving too far away to hear it clearly. He followed as Hector led the way down the dirt path, his shiny black ponytail ticking from side to side down the middle of his back, his hair even longer than Evelyn's. Brian looked around them constantly for a sign of anything moving but it seemed just as quiet as it had before. The sky was grey and the sunshine was dull but he could see everything around them, the old tractor sitting beside an equally ancient Thunderbird up on blocks, the rusted remains of a washing machine, a dirt bike missing its back wheel. So much junk that it was like visiting the city dump except that there were no bags of trash littered throughout. All the way to the barn they passed the same detritus and Brian wondered why they hadn't just hauled it all away. It was puzzling that anyone would bring so much shit onto their property and just let it rot there. The miscellaneous crap was concentrated more heavily as they made their way to the barn, creating a narrow path that branched off in two directions as the barn neared; a larger path that led nearly up to the big double doors and a smaller one that led to a side door.

Hector chose the smaller path and a minute later he was reaching out to open the side door when multiple shots rang out from inside the house in quick succession. There were so many so quickly that Brian couldn't tell how many shots had been fired but after a pause there were two more gunshots. Both he and Hector had turned their attention back toward the house so neither of them saw the side door open but they heard it; the sudden loud squeak of a rusty hinge. 

Brian whirled back around, bringing the shotgun up in shaking hands, and almost fired on the person standing in the doorway with their hands held up. It was just a man with a dirty blue baseball hat jammed down on his head over short dirty blonde hair and a ragged, sweat-stained undershirt covering his beefy farm boy chest. As Brian took a closer look at the person standing in the doorway leading to the barn he realized that it wasn't a grown man after all but a kid. He looked like he was maybe 15 or so and scared out of his mind.

Hector cursed and lowered the Taurus Model 66 Luke had given him. "Jesus!" Hector hissed at the newcomer. "I almost killed you, kid!"

Brian also lowered the shotgun in his hands and asked, "How many people are in that house?"

The kid took his meaning immediately and his already frightened face paled even further. "F-four," he said in an unsteady voice. "My mom, my dad, my brother, and my sister. The guy in the driveway is our neighbor Mr. Sheldon."

Brian and Hector exchanged a glance and then Hector asked, "Were they fucked up like everyone else? Is that why you're out here? You were hiding from them?"

"Yeah, my dad and my sister," the kid said and his eyes widened even further as realization dawned on him. "Those gunshots...I...they..."

Then he began to cry in big broken-hearted sobs and Brian found himself embracing a stranger; awkwardly trying to comfort the boy as he broke down completely. Sinking down in the doorway with him to the dirt, Brian felt completely out of his element but he couldn't let this poor kid lie in the dirt and cry so he propped him up against the door frame as well as he could while his big tanned shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. It went on for a moment like that and Brian thought he should say something, anything, but he was at a loss.

Then farm boy started to babble at Brian as he wiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Mr. Sheldon was in our front yard. Dad saw him out there just wandering around like he was lost. We'd been watching the news all morning so he had his deer rifle out of the closet already. He went out to check on Mr. Sheldon but he ran at him as soon as he saw my dad so he shot him," he said, his words coming faster and faster as he went on, a clear runner of snot hanging out of his nose and making a clean track down his face. "Then my dad ran inside and shut the door and dropped his deer rifle. He just stood there for a second and then kinda jerked and made this weird gasping sound like he couldn't breathe. Then Amy, my sister, she stopped freaking out and got real quiet before she did the same gasping-jerking thing, too. Vince and Mom asked them what was wrong but they just, just..." 

The boy turned to look at Brian with haunted hazel eyes that seemed to see right through him. "They turned on 'em so quick, just b-biting and growling like they was rabid dogs," He sobbed again and gripped Brian's arm in his rough hands as if afraid he might disappear. "I didn't know what to do, there was so much blood and Mom was screaming as Dad...h-he bit her face and she screamed for him to stop and I ran out the back door as fast as I could and slammed it shut. I didn't even try to help them. I ran like a chickenshit out here to the barn and I just remember being glad they didn't follow me. I think, I think maybe they didn't see me. They were too busy with Mom and Vince so Dad and Amy didn't even notice me. I've been hiding here in the barn since then and I wanted to leave but I was afraid they'd see me and come after me."

"It's all right now," Brian said in what he hoped was a soothing voice, trying to still the boy's shaking with an arm around his shoulders. "You're okay. Now that we're here we're going to help you, okay?" The boy didn't respond, only continued to shake uncontrollably, so he tried another tactic, "What's your name, kid?"

The boy in the blue baseball cap seemed to come back to himself a little at that, wiping one hand under his nose and flinging the snot away with a flick of his wrist. "Wyatt," he said. "Wyatt Hofmann." His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed several times very quickly and then he asked, "Those shots means they're dead, right? My family is dead?"

"Yeah, I think so," Brian said reluctantly. He looked around for Hector and wasn't surprised to see that Hector had left him there with the boy. As he watched, Hector neared the front door and then Luke and Mickey were stepping out again. Mickey, his formerly white shirt now doused in blood, tottered several steps away and vomited loudly into a half-dead rosebush.

Wyatt began crying hard again and Brian tried his best to comfort him but he didn't know what you were supposed to say to someone who'd lost their whole family. He just held the kid and repeated the same meaningless words again and again, feeling helpless in the face of such profound grief.

***

Brian found Wyatt later that day sitting in the living room with Jack next to him. He sat on the couch staring out of the big window, his view of the outside only partially blocked by the boards they'd managed to nail up so far, the dog with his head in the boy's lap.

"Hey," Brian said, coming closer to the boy. "You feeling okay?" Wyatt looked better after eating something and cleaning up a bit but he still had that thousand yard stare and his eyes had such dark circles under them that they almost looked bruised.

"I knew the man that lived here," the boy said, ignoring the question and never taking his eyes off of what lay beyond the window.

Brian sat on the other end of the couch and said, "Did you know him well?"

"Not really," Wyatt said. "My mom and dad went to his wife's funeral a couple of years ago. She got hit by a drunk driver." He sighed and continued, "Mr. Boyd was okay. He taught Physics in school. I took Earth Science though so I didn't have him."

"I thought everyone out here were farmers," Brian said.

"No," Wyatt said, finally turning to look at Brian as if just noticing him for the first time. "Not everyone. Didn't you see that the fields around this house are nothin' but grass? Nothin' here has been tilled or planted in years."

Brian, who knew about as much about farms and farmers as he did about the price of tea in China, shrugged and said, "I didn't notice that until you pointed it out. I haven't been worried about crops and shit like that. I've been worried about all the crazy people trying to eat me." He winced, kicking himself for bringing that up, and looked at the kid to see if he'd start crying again.

But Wyatt didn't cry, he just scratched at Jack's fuzzy black ear and went back to looking out of the window, his hazel eyes red-rimmed but dry, giving Brian hope that he hadn't heard him.

"I used to get really pissed at Vince," Wyatt said in an emotionless voice. "He used to be a real pain in the ass sometimes. He'd blame stuff on me and I'd get in trouble and have to do extra chores. Then he'd laugh at me behind mom's back and..." He stopped and sighed heavily, lips beginning to tremble as he continued, "I used to wish I didn't have a little brother. How messed up is that? I used to wish he'd never been born and now he's dead. So's Amy and Mom and Dad. They're all dead and I'm not."

Brian sat there for a moment, fiddling with the outside seam of his pants as he always did when he was nervous or worried about something, and finally said, "I'm sorry about what happened to your family."

Wyatt wiped a single tear from his cheek and took in a great shuddering breath before speaking again, "Me too. I'd give almost anything to see Vince stick his tongue out at me when no one else was looking. Or hear Dad cussing about the water heater and Mom yelling at us to pick up our clothes. I'd even settle for Amy telling me I'm a brain-dead shitkicker. Now they're all dead and I kinda wish I was, too."

Warning bells began to go off in Brian's head and, thinking of the dead man who'd been hanging in the closet upstairs, he tried hard to find the right words to say, "You'll never stop missing them, Wyatt, but they wouldn't have wanted you to die with them. They'd want you to survive this."

"I know," the boy said after a long time, his voice barely a whisper. "But it's hard to think that way right now. I'm never going to see them again. They're just...gone."

They sat in silence once more, the sun slowly descending in the sky and the clock that hung on the wall opposite of them ticking the seconds away, and when Evelyn called to everyone that dinner was ready, Brian wasn't too surprised to see that the kid had passed out from exhaustion with his head tilted back on the couch. He'd looked like he hadn't slept for days and Brian felt sorry for him. Poor kid had been through so much in less than a week's time and even though he was taller than Brian and much more physically fit, he resembled a small child sleeping there like that. The trauma from what he'd endured had regressed him until he looked like a kid tuckered out after a long day at the beach. 

Brian covered him with a blanket and let him sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Luke POV)

~Luke~

Another three days passed and the temperature fell further and further at night. The others had begged him to let them light a fire in the fireplace but he refused. He was afraid that the light and smoke from a fire would draw any infected in the area to them so they had to settle for the sub-par central heating and air conditioning the thermostat controlled. For now, anyway.

Luke was getting more worried with every day that passed. There had been no activity on the highway that they could see and even the emergency broadcast system had quit on the radio and TV. The internet on his phone hadn't worked from the very start but Luke didn't know if it was out everywhere or because it was hard to get a decent connection way out here in the boonies. Either way, the lack of information on all fronts gave a pretty clear message that no help was coming. 

More troubling than that was the fact that they were running through the supplies they'd managed to gather faster than he'd anticipated. Even after filling every empty jug they could find with water, rationing their food to smaller portions and cutting out the midday meal entirely, he knew that it wasn't near enough. With so many people that meant they would be scavenging the surrounding farms and towns all winter for food, water and other necessities. But how long would they be able to do that? 

The moving truck's gas tank was already half empty and the truck that had belonged to the owner of this house had been abandoned for the Silverado that had belonged to Wyatt's father. It had a full tank but it was a gas guzzler just like all the big trucks these country types seemed to drive. They needed different transportation, they needed food and water, they needed lumber and they needed medicine. It meant they were going to have to scavenge in a town somewhere soon. If they were careful and quick they might be able to get in and out with minimal contact with the infected but he knew from long years of experience that things never seem to go quite as planned. This was going to be a very big risk no matter how carefully they went about it.

So that night at dinner he told them all what he was thinking. The others looked at him with frightened eyes and Luke wondered for a moment if they would refuse. He couldn't blame them if they did, it was safe here, it was quiet and so far nothing had tried to eat them. Why would they want to risk a painful death just for potatoes and toilet paper?

"Luke's right," Hector said, his dark brown eyes meeting Luke's as he nodded in approval, the others quieting down to listen to the man who seemed to rarely speak. "What we have here isn't going to last us another week even if we cut our meals back to once a day. We're going to need a lot more food and water if we want to stay here."

"Among other things," Luke agreed. "We're leaving at daylight so everyone get as much rest as you can."

Everyone was in agreement and after finishing their poor excuse for a meal they all went to bed early. Wyatt volunteered to be on first watch and Evelyn said she would take second so Luke lay down to sleep, his stomach in knots just like it always had been during his time in Afghanistan when he knew the next day might be his last. And just like it was nearly twenty years ago, somehow he managed to sleep anyway.

***

So it was that the next day, October 19th, on the outskirts of the tiny town of Delbrook when Luke, Brian, Hector and Mickey thrust themselves back into real danger once more. The population was just under two thousand people and Main Street, the thoroughfare that ran right through the middle of town, held every shop they would need to hit in order to gather supplies; a grocery store, a pharmacy, a hardware store.

The streets were filled with the all too familiar aftermath of carnage and they swerved around several wrecks and rotting corpses in the road. There weren't many infected around but the few that they did see really did look like zombies now. Their clothes were torn and bloody, their flesh was ripped and gouged and burned, some of them sported broken noses or jaws, some were missing eyes and ears, limped on twisted ankles, dragged themselves along with broken legs trailing behind them or had broken arms dangling at their sides. It had only taken nine days for them to lose most of their resemblance to the human beings they once were.

"Look at that one there," Mickey said, pointing to a woman with a ragged blonde ponytail in skimpy workout attire and a large cut down the side of one shapely leg that boiled and festered with maggots. "That is some of the sickest shit I have ever seen in my life."

"Oh thanks for pointing that one out to me," Brian said, looking more than a little green around the gills. "I really needed to see that."

They came to a stop outside of a Rite Aid pharmacy and after cutting off the engine Luke had a good long look around. There was an 18-wheeler crashed into the bakery across the street and it blocked the right side of the road, long black skid marks of burnt rubber lay stretched out behind it where the driver had slammed on his brakes and still failed to stop in time. In front of the crashed truck were two cars that had hit head on, the twisted and burned mass of metal only identifiable because of the broken safety glass surrounding it and an undamaged tire that had rolled off to one side nearby. Dead bodies were everywhere, most of them so savaged that the only thing left was bone and a little gristle, the remains of the clothes they'd been wearing lying in blood stained tatters around them. 

One of the chewed corpses lay on the ground next to the door of the pharmacy, one foot clad in a shiny black dress shoe still inside the store and preventing the door from closing all the way. One of the confused infected stood at the laundromat next door to the pharmacy banging her bleeding forehead into the brick wall repeatedly, completely oblivious to anything other than her strange compulsion just as they had witnessed in others before her. Further down the street, near a small honky-tonk bar called 'Boot Scooters', a large group of the aggressive infected roamed around but they were far enough away that they weren't an immediate problem.

They could see lights on in the pharmacy and it looked like it had been relatively untouched other than a knocked over sunglasses display near the register. Nothing was moving inside.

"Remember what we talked about," Luke said to the men in the Silverado. "No gunfire until we have absolutely no other choice. We don't want to draw unnecessary attention. Hit them with whatever you got as your secondary." He pointed to the big hammer tucked into Brian's belt for emphasis. "Try to hit hard enough to put them down the first time and then finish it when they're on the ground."

"We've been through this a hundred times on the drive here," Mickey said, the machete across his lap gleaming mellowly in the dull sunlight. "We stick together, watch each other's backs and only shoot if we have no other choice. We got it, Luke."

He frowned at the younger man and said, "Yeah, all right. Just don't do anything stupid in there and we should be okay."

He saw Mickey's stubbled cheeks flame with color and his dark reddish brown eyebrows come together over his flashing green eyes. That's right, dumbass, Luke thought but didn't say. Be pissed at me if it helps you remember what I said.

They got out of the truck quickly, all four doors opening and closing simultaneously, quiet as church mice. They headed for the pharmacy door, Luke keeping an eye on the headbanger and feeling somewhat relieved when she didn't even look their way.

Stepping around the dead man and pulling open the door, they went inside and immediately heard a weeper somewhere in the store; the steady monotonous sobs sounding hollow and without real emotion.

They moved in groups of two, Luke and Brian starting down one aisle toward the back where the prescriptions were filled and Mickey and Hector heading in the same direction but going down the aisle on the left of them.

The weeping grew louder as the first set of aisles ended and the next one began. When they reached the back they saw an old man in a white coat sitting on the floor of the waiting area. The pharmacist was the weeper. His eyes didn't see them as they passed by him warily and he only continued to sob hoarsely as they came into the waiting area.

Luke tugged Hector's sleeve, pointed at his eyes with two fingers and then at the weeping pharmacist. The message was clear, 'Watch him.'

Hector nodded back that he understood and held up the length of pipe he gripped in one hand as if to say, 'Don't worry, I got this covered.'

Satisfied, Luke set his crowbar gently down beside the register and turned to a rack of reusable shopping bags, grabbing four of the largest ones. He hopped over the counter with less difficulty than he'd anticipated and began to stuff the first bag with antibiotics; Amoxicillin, Azithromycin, Cephalexin, Penicillin, anything that he recognized as the right stuff. Then into the second bag went pain meds; Hydrocodone, Oxycodone, Codeine, Percocet, Vicodin, Hydromorphone. Then the sedatives and tranquilizers; Valium, Seconal, Xanax, Ativan, Halcion. Then the cough medicines and decongestants; Pseudoephedrine, Promethazine, Bromfed DM, Tussionex.

He moved on to the topical antibiotics and steroids and breathing medicines, grabbing everything that he could possibly fit in the last bag now. Finally he hopped back over the counter and moved out into the main aisles, stuffing in over the counter meds like Ibuprofen, Aspirin, Tylenol, Excedrin and Imodium, Pepto Bismal, Tums, Prilosec, Zantac, Stool Softeners, Fiber Tablets and Multivitamins. He even spied some prenatal vitamins and tossed those in as well, thinking that Evelyn would be grateful for them. He handed Hector the last near to bursting bag to set on the pharmacy counter with the others. Luke then grabbed three more bags to fill up as he went down various aisles with Brian following close behind. 

He started with first aid supplies; various bandages, rubbing alcohol and Peroxide, gauze, medical tape, all types of disinfecting spray, ankle wraps, knee wraps, cotton balls, antibiotic ointments. Then other necessities quickly filled the next bag; body soap, dish soap, laundry soap, huge bottles of shampoo and conditioner, toothbrushes, toothpaste. The last bag he crammed with anything he thought would be needed or at least useful; scissors, sewing kits, batteries, emergency candles, fingernail clippers, pocket knives, a couple of those cheap multi-tool knives that women gave their husbands or fathers as stocking stuffers at Christmas and so on.

By the time they were headed to the door again they were loaded down with supplies, the bags bulging and awkward to carry along with their weapons. They exited the pharmacy and placed the bags in the bed of the Silverado, tying the handles of each bag to another to help weigh them down, pushing them up against the far end near the back window.

Brian set the last bag down a little too hard, producing a loud thud as something struck the bed, and the headbanger turned away from her wall. Her eyes and mouth widened, her face a bruised and bloody ruin, and ran at them with her arms extended, growling and snapping her broken teeth.

Mickey was closest to her and he stepped to the side as she came within reaching distance, swinging his machete down and to the left in a hard arc as he did so. The blade hit her where her neck and shoulder met and the freshly sharpened blade sunk in with a deep thunk sound, splitting flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter.

Her skinny legs crumpled as her blood poured out and she died, spilling her to the concrete. Mickey cursed under his breath and yanked the blade out with a grunt. He wiped the gore from it on the front of her ragged blouse and then turned back to the others.

Brian gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up and Mickey returned his smile easily, surprised and pleased with his results. Luke motioned for them to get back in the truck so they did for the 30 seconds it took them to navigate three doors down the shopping center to 'Smart Shoppers', the little locally owned grocery store. They had to drive up on the sidewalk to avoid the head on collision and had drawn closer to the bar where about 50 or so of the infected were congregating. So far they were still far enough away that none of them had noticed the men in the big blue truck as they crept forward.

They got out of the truck and went inside the grocery store, the big glass double doors shutting behind them silently. They dodged around another dead body right near the entrance, this one also obviously chewed on, and then there were footsteps running at them; the snarls and growls of the infected preceding their arrival.

One of them, a tow-headed boy not even out of elementary school, lunged at Hector, clawing and snapping. Hector shoved him back as another came at Luke. Luke wound up with his crowbar, let the crazy man in the khaki pants and blood stained polo get just at the right distance, and let loose, catching him in the jaw with a sickening crunch. Hector let out a cry that sounded like he was the one in pain as he split the kid's head open with his pipe and then Mickey was plunging his machete into the belly of the last one, a big chubby boy that was almost grown, and dragging it up through his midsection, the boy's intestines slipping from the giant wound in huge bloody coils as he died.

Luke gave the guy in khakis one last hit to the skull and he could almost feel the crack as it opened, gritting his teeth against the horror of it, and turning away as the man died. He looked at the others and saw Mickey once again wiping his machete clean on the pants leg of the chubby boy while Brian still stood there with his hammer in hand unused, the strap attached to the shotgun at his side over one skinny shoulder. Hector was having the hardest time with what he'd just done. He was wiping his leaking eyes with his free hand as his lips moved in silent prayer. Luke had seen him do this before on several occasions and left the man to his meager comfort.

After seeing no more infected running their way, they went about the business of grabbing as many groceries as they could possibly get, loading down two carts of bags with everything from peanut butter to that horrible powdered milk. Things had been pretty picked over as the panic in that first day had begun but they were able to get most everything they needed to survive on the longest. 

On their way out they saw another weeper walking past the truck, a young woman in a sundress and cowboy boots, and gave her a wide berth, still uncertain as to whether or not the crying ones were a danger. Once she was far enough away they began loading the groceries into the bed of the truck along with the supplies from the Rite Aid.

Once everyone was safely in the truck again, Luke pointed down the road to a big barn-like building at the far end of the street with a sign that read 'Delbrook Hardware'. "That's our next stop," he said as he keyed the ignition once more. "But we're taking the alley, there's no way we're getting any further down here without getting too close to that bar where all the freaks are."

"Why not drive right through them?" Hector asked. "As long as we stay in the truck they won't pay attention to us even when we hit them."

"Yeah, maybe," Luke replied, rubbing the stubble on his cheeks and producing that raspy sandpaper sound. "They don't seem to understand the concept of moving vehicles carrying people inside them but I'm not willing to stake our lives on it. Maybe we were far enough away that they didn't see us inside or maybe the truck was too high up, or they're fucking near-sighted, I don't know." He sighed and shook his head, "This truck is a lot smaller than that box truck. If they spot us they'll be all over us in seconds and we don't have enough ammo for all of them."

The others blanched at the thought of this and they all agreed that either alley running parallel to Main Street would be the wiser option. So Luke reversed, backing away from the sidewalk and then down the road until they were behind the crashed semi. He began to turn the wheel to turn them back around and that's when they heard three gunshots coming from the direction of the honky tonk bar. A few seconds after the shots rang out they all heard a deep voice screaming for help.

They watched as the infected began to attack the front of the bar, hurling themselves at the big wooden door and at the barred windows just slightly above their clawing hands. It looked like they were beating themselves to death trying to get in but it didn't stop them; they were just as senseless as moths hurtling themselves against a lightbulb once the sun went down.

"Fucking hell," Luke growled through clenched teeth as he finally got the Silverado turned around. "It's always something."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New character POV

~Markus~

Markus Williams peered through the wrought iron bars over the front windows and saw the blue truck advancing on the grocery store. He held his Beretta 92FS semi-automatic pistol in one hand and wiped at the sweat on his brow with the other. 

"They're coming closer," he said aloud to the others. "If we don't get their attention soon they'll get what they need and leave."

"What're we gonna do?" Virginia Caldwell asked, holding her youngest daughter's hand in one hand and her oldest daughter's hand in the other. "We have to let them know we're in here. It's been over two days, Markus."

He glanced back at her, a chubby suburban white lady in her mid thirties with curly auburn hair and light brown eyes who'd been your average housewife days before, and frowned deeply. Virginia's daughters, Lilly, only six with honey blond hair and the same light brown eyes, and Josie, thirteen and with the exact same shade of hair as their mother but blue-eyed, stared back at him expectantly. They thought that he could get them out of this somehow. That he could save them like he did before.

Why wouldn't they think that? He was the big, tough black guy from Third Ward in Houston, one of the roughest places in the whole city; the amateur boxer, the billy-badass motherfucker. The absolute tank who hadn't let a single man in his part of the city disrespect or threaten him in any way without knocking a few of homeboy's teeth out. Not to mention that he had a gun, he knew how to shoot it, and he was the one who got them into this mess in the first place. Now he just had to get them out of it somehow without unnecessarily sacrificing himself in the process.

He'd met Virginia and her kids in Sugar Land on his way back from an acupuncture treatment for his backache when his Lincoln Navigator had gotten a flat. He was busy changing his tire and they were stopped at a red light only feet from him. He hadn't been focused on anything other than the task at hand and didn't see them as he removed the flat and prepared to put on the spare. They never would've even noticed one another under normal circumstances. She would've driven her children to their doctor's appointments and he would've finished up and went in search of lunch before going back to the gym.

Unbeknownst to Markus or Virginia and her kids (none of them were big fans of the news or anything on a radio), a huge mob of the infected were closing in all around them. When one of the approaching infected saw Josie, who'd been sitting there happily indifferent to the world of adults and playing Candy Crush, he busted through the half open window on the passenger side of Virginia's car and grabbed the girl by her shoulder length hair, trying to bite her. Josie, her sister and her mother shrieked at the sight of the bloody horror trying to climb into the car with them and instinctively fought back.

Markus had heard glass shatter and the girls' terrified screams and came on the run. Other motorists were poking their heads out to see the commotion and we're either attacked by other infected, being infected themselves by their close proximity or fleeing in their cars; one nearly running him down as he made the quick journey to the red Ford Fiesta. He would've run himself if he hadn't heard the little girls screaming for help, Markus reflected now as he watched the truck coast to a silent stop. He would've run and never looked back. Which was probably exactly what these people would do if confronted by the small mob outside.

He'd first seen Virginia hitting the man trying to bite her daughter with the only weapon she had, a metal travel mug, her blows only making the crazy man angrier. Meanwhile, Josie had shoved against his chest, locking her arms and pinning him against the side of her window to keep him off of her. His red teeth snapped only inches away from the little girl's pinched face but she somehow managed to keep her attacker at bay, using a strength Markus had thought a tiny girl like her wouldn't have been able to muster. Markus had dragged the bloody white guy out of the window and hit him with everything he had, his fist smashing into the much smaller man's face hard enough to make him fall to the ground.

He'd broken the guy's nose but the crazy bastard tried to get up again as if he didn't feel the pain at all, still snapping his teeth and growling like an angry dog. So Markus, his big muscular body thrumming like a live wire from the massive amount of adrenaline the Caldwells' screams had evoked, beat the skinny man down and didn't stop until he didn't move anymore. Everything around him had been blocked out by the red rage that overtook him and he could only see or hear what was in front of him until the job was done. 

Once the man's face had been practically caved in by Markus's hard knuckled fists, he'd finally looked around and seen more of those psychos coming, some of whom were trying their best to get out of the cars they'd stopped at the red light only minutes before, and ran for his Navigator as Virginia tried to comfort her screaming, bleeding daughter. He'd retrieved his Beretta and his ammo from under the seat and went back to the little compact car his damsels in distress had been sitting in.

Virgina had willingly let him come along, insisting that he drive them out of there as more infected swarmed the street and attacked people unlucky enough to be caught out in the open. So he'd wedged himself into the driver's seat, the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, the box of ammo on the seat beside him, and somehow he'd gotten them out. The tiny car had helped, he knew, they'd been able to skirt around a lot of the chaos unfolding around them where other vehicles like his Lincoln would've never had a chance. He'd been careful to get them out as soon as possible, sticking to side streets and avoiding the worst of the traffic jams from the other panicked motorists, and it had felt like he couldn't breathe until the signs of city life were far behind in the rearview mirror. 

He wouldn't allow himself to think about how bad his own neighborhood must've been if Sugar Land had been so hairy but he said a silent prayer for the many friends and few relatives he'd left behind. The best he could hope for was that some of them had seen what was going down and gotten out in time. There was no way he would ever be stepping foot in Third Ward again so he wasn't likely to find out for himself at any time in the foreseeable future.

After finally getting away from the worst of it, they'd ended up at a motel just outside a place called Orchard that neither he nor Virginia had heard of before. They'd hunkered down there, watching TV and being scared shitless, until two days before when they'd run out of the small food supply Markus had managed to scrounge up from abandoned cars. They'd headed west, driving aimlessly for hours and hours until they were running on fumes, and ended here in Delbrook. They made the terrible mistake of going into the little grocery store down the street only to be chased out by the infected inside. He'd hit the first one that ran at them hard enough to knock him out clean and then grabbed the little girls and ran with one of them under each arm. Virginia could move when she had to but they almost didn't make it inside the bar in time. Markus had locked the door, shot the deranged owner who jumped out of the shadows only seconds later (who's decaying body now occupied one of the stalls in the men's restroom) and here they had been since that morning; eating bar food like peanuts and pretzels and nachos while those crazy bastards roamed around outside. 

Some of the crazies had wandered off after the first day had come and gone and even more vanished by the next morning but there were still too many for Markus to handle on his own. If he stepped outside they would tear his ass apart screaming while Virginia and her kids got front row seats to the gruesome event; still trapped in this redneck bar. So here they'd remained, listening to them shuffle around outside and waiting on an opportunity to escape.

Now here was that opportunity and Markus was afraid that he'd fuck it up somehow and get them all killed. Still, he had to do something. Find a way to get those guys' attention and hope they wouldn't take off, maybe add their firepower to Markus's so at least the girls had a chance to escape. The only other alternative was staying here and hoping that enough of the infected outside would drift away eventually so that they could try to find a vehicle or staying here until the food ran out and they became desperate enough for Markus to try anyway. 

If he was going to die Markus supposed he was okay with that but he wasn't going to let anything happen to those kids if he could help it. He might've been hardened by his experiences in life but he wasn't heartless despite the way he might've pretended to be a time or two in the past. It didn't really matter that he didn't know those kids; he would die for them if it came to it. He'd lived a lot of his life already and they'd barely started theirs.

"Did you hear me?" Virginia's demanding voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "What are we going to do, Markus?"

"Would you just shut your mouth for a damn minute, woman? I'm trying to think!"

Lilly began to cry then and it made Markus feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at Virginia with a tired expression on his face. "I didn't mean to say it like that. Just, please, if you would be quiet for a second so that I can think, it would be very helpful."

"Sure," Virginia said, her amber eyes not looking at him, only at her child as she smoothed the girl's hair back from her face with one pale hand and whispered some soothing nonsense to quiet her.

Markus sighed heavily and turned back to the windows. The men in the Silverado had disappeared inside 'Smart Shoppers' and he was too far away to see inside. After an endless amount of time they came back out with two carts filled with bagged groceries and began loading them into the big bed of the truck; two of them loading up and two of them keeping an eye out. When they got back in the truck he thought that they would come closer and that maybe he could flag them down somehow but he realized that they were reversing back down the street, trying to find a place to turn around. They were going to disappear just as quickly as they had arrived if he didn't do something.

Markus hit the window in front of him with the butt of his Beretta and it shattered immediately. He extended the barrel of the gun through two of the wrought iron bars and shot off three quick rounds.

Then he began to scream, "Over here! Help! Help us!"

The infected began beating at the door in a frenzy, the wood rattling in its frame, and Virginia was on her feet in an instant. "What are you doing?!" She cried, her voice shrill with fear. "Stop that! They'll bring down that fucking door if you don't shut up!"

Markus ignored her and kept screaming for help, the deep baritone of his voice carrying far and drawing more and more infected to the door. Now it felt as if the entire brick front of the bar was trembling and he could see them just below the window; reaching, grasping, clawing and straining to get at their next meal.

Virginia seized his big shoulder in one hand and was trying to pull him away from the window but he shrugged her off and screamed louder, his throat raw and burning now. He continued until the truck disappeared around the corner and finally he stopped in a fit of coughing that burned his throat even more.

Backing away from the window, Markus heard the infected only feet away trying to beat the door down, the constant clatter of their vicious blows making the door shudder in it's frame in warning. He heard a sudden crack and a long piece of wood about as thick around as his pinky finger fell out of the door to clatter on the floor below.

He drew his Beretta from the waistband of his dirty jeans once again and backed further away, grabbing Virginia's clammy hand and pulling her along with him. "Get the kids in the manager's office," he said. "Get them in there now."

Virginia fled the room with her children and went through the metal door on the farthest back wall. As Markus turned around to run he heard another deep resounding crack from the door and suddenly the snarling sounds of the infected filled the room.

He was a big strong guy, 6"2 and 245 pounds of almost pure muscle, but he was also fast. That's why his record was 26 wins, 3 losses and 14 knockouts on the amateur boxing circuit. Maybe he was getting past his prime at thirty two years old but he was still a man dedicated to what he loved, a man who trained very hard to get to where he was, and the handful of infected that had managed to get through had no chance of catching up.

Markus got through the door to the manager's office and slammed it shut behind him, locking both locks and then pushing the big metal desk against it for good measure. Virginia and her daughters were huddled together crying and the woman eyed him like one might a dangerous animal.

"What were you thinking?!" She said, her eyes puffy with tears yet full of so much raw fury that he might've been taken aback under other circumstances. "You just rang the goddamned dinner bell for a hundred of those psychos!"

"There was no other way," Markus told her in his new scratchy voice as more and more infected began beating on the door they'd come through. "They were turning around. Leaving. It was the only chance we had of getting them to hear us, Virginia!"

"Well what chance do we have in here?" She sobbed, her anger dissipating slightly only to be replaced by more fear. "They're going to bust that door down any second."

Markus shook his head, "That's a security door. Solid steel core. No fuckin' way they're getting through that."

Virginia wiped at her eyes as her children clung to her, crying and hiding their heads against their mother's considerable bosom, and opened her mouth to speak but a sudden sound interrupted her.

"That's an engine!" he cried, heading for the other metal door across the room that opened up to the alley behind the bar.

"They're in the alley, too!" Virginia called out. "Be careful, Markus!"

He waited until he heard the engine right outside the door and then unlocked it and turned the knob. Almost immediately a freak grabbed his arm and tried to take a chunk out of him. He put the crazy bitch down with one hard clip to the jaw and stepped outside with his gun up, ready to shoot.

The driver of the Silverado leaned out of the open window and asked, "You guys want a ride outta here or what?"

Markus could've kissed him but settled for a "Fuck yes!" instead. Then he was covering Virginia as she and her girls jumped into the back seat. Seeing there was no room for him back there now, he ran out and grabbed the side of the truck near the bed. He vaulted up and over and landed in the back with an ungainly crash, his right knee striking something metal and causing him to cry out in pain.

Hands grabbed the leg that was still dangling over the bed of the truck and Markus screamed as teeth bit down on the meatiest part of his calf. The pain was excruciating even though the thick material of his jeans prevented the fucker's teeth from penetrating his flesh.

He raised himself up and aimed his pistol at the top of the infected old man's head. He pulled the trigger and a hole appeared right below the widow's peak on his wrinkled forehead, his brains exiting the back of his skull with an unimportant splat. The pressure of his bite was gone and the old man slid off and down the side as the driver backed out of the alley and back onto Main Street. The infected saw him sitting in the back exposed and then they were all running at him. Nearly two hundred of them; snarling, snapping, growling, wanting to eat him up just like all the big bad monsters his mother had assured him never existed. 

They drew closer and his heart was in his throat as the first one came within leaping distance but then the Silverado shot forward and he was being ferried away from certain death, the brisk October air drying the sour sweat that had drenched him and leaving him feeling chilled to the bone.

"Peace out, motherfuckers!" Markus screamed at their receding figures, laughing and delirious with relief and exhaustion; sounding almost as crazy as they were. "You ain't gonna get a bite of this black ass today!!!" 

The laughter overtook him completely then and Markus thought that none before it had ever been sweeter.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)

~Evelyn~

She was keeping an eye on the girls while Virginia was searching for something to throw together for a light lunch. Evelyn sat on the sofa skimming an old magazine as they played with Jack in the living room. The girls, Josie and Lilly, had fallen in love with the affable beast the moment they'd laid eyes on him two days ago. Evelyn thought that the feeling was mutual. Jack rolled eagerly on his back and let the girls pet his stomach as they giggled together and gushed about how adorable he was.

"Wookit his wittle paws!" Josie said, her sapphire blue eyes practically sparkling as she gazed down at him. "Aren't you the best doggy in the whole world? Yes, you are!"

Jack's tail swished back and forth faster and faster on the carpet, his long pink tongue lolling out of a mouth that curved upward in what looked like a smile, in pure ecstasy as the girls cooed over him and gave him all the belly scratches he could ever want.

"I love dogs," Lilly said, speaking in her shy, almost too-soft-to-hear voice. "I wish Mommy and Daddy let us have one before."

"We couldn't have one because they didn't allow pets at the apartment, you dummy," Josie said, never taking her eyes off Jack. "Dad told us that about a thousand times."

Lilly sat back on her haunches and her face clouded with sadness; wiping away the joy that had been there only a moment before. After a long moment she said, "I miss Daddy. When is he going to find us? It's been such a long, long time."

Josie turned her full attention to her little sister at last, "Dad might not find us, Lil."

Lilly began to cry then and Evelyn went to her. She said all the stupid things adults say to children when bad things happened, all the comforting lies and hopes for a better tomorrow. The little girl only looked back at her with tears streaming out of her amber colored eyes and said, "I want my Daddy. He drove off to work and we didn't see him again."

"I know," Evelyn said. "But I'm sure your Daddy wants to find you and your mom and your sister. He's doing everything he can to come back to you."

"But how will he find us?" Lilly asked, wiping at her eyes with hands that still resembled that of a pudgy toddler's. "Mommy's phone doesn't work and Daddy can't call us to find out where we are."

Evelyn didn't have an answer for that one so she went back to saying the same lies, chief among them being that everything was going to be okay, and tried to distract the girls with a game of 'Sorry!'. For a little while they forgot about the new reality and became completely absorbed in the game, laughing and smiling as if everything really was going to turn out fine. Evelyn could only marvel at the resilience and adaptability of young children.

They finished their game and Evelyn got up to find another one when she heard voices raised in the kitchen. There came the shattering sound of something glass hitting the floor and she clearly heard Virgina say, "Oh my God!"

She picked up the Ruger where it sat on the coffee table and said to Josie, "Stay here." 

Josie nodded back at her, her blue eyes wide and her teeth chewing at her lower lip, slipping an arm around her equally silent sister to pull her closer.

Evelyn stood just in time to see Jack's tail disappearing around the corner and she followed him, her stomach in knots as she heard the yelling just a couple of rooms away intensify. One voice she heard clearly Luke's and the other sounded like Brian but she was still too far away to be certain.

A figure came rushing at her out of the hallway and almost knocked her over. It was Virginia and she looked terrified as she flew by Evelyn without saying anything; fleeing in the direction of her waiting children.

Her heart now thudding hard in her chest, Evelyn hurried along behind Jack to the kitchen and when she stepped inside she initially couldn't make sense of what her eyes were seeing.

First she took in Wyatt standing with his back against the kitchen island and Brian lying on his back on the ground before him, his head almost resting on Wyatt's boot and his nose bleeding profusely. Luke and Hector grabbed Brian's hands and helped him to his unsteady feet. Blood was dripping off of Brian's chin and hitting the tile floor, slowly forming a pool between his feet. A shattered glass bowl lay on the floor next to the island, presumably knocked off by Wyatt's elbow when he'd fallen against it.

She turned her head slightly left and saw Markus with one arm around Mickey's neck and one locked around his left bicep. Mickey struggled in his grasp like a pissed off badger but Markus was stronger and Evelyn felt real fear when she saw how red Mickey's face was; his slightly crooked teeth bared in a vicious snarl. His green eyes stared at Brian with such intense hatred that her first thought was that he'd become infected somehow. She was so certain of it that she almost shouted at Markus to get away from him and raised the 357.

"Let me go!" Mickey wheezed behind the huge bulk of Markus's forearm. "Let me fuckin' go!!!"

"Not until you calm the hell down!" Markus told him, grunting with the effort to hold him back. He was a big guy but Mickey wasn't exactly weak himself at 6"1 and close to two hundred pounds mostly comprised of muscle. Markus was holding onto him but just barely.

Wyatt, his hazel eyes wide and full of fear, took this opportunity and made his way toward the archway leading into the dining room. As he passed by Evelyn he called to the dog, "Come on, boy."

Jack obediently followed Wyatt out of the room and Evelyn returned her attention to the strange scene before her.

Brian held his bleeding nose in one hand and raised one shaking finger to point at Mickey, his voice nasally and shaking just as bad as the rest of him, "What the fuck is your problem, asshole?! It was just a joke!"

"Fuck you, kid," Mickey spat at him, his efforts to break free of Markus never flagging.

Luke hooked an arm around Brian's shoulders and Hector stepped in front of them both as if shielding the sight of the younger man from Mickey. "You really are an asshole," he said. "For fuck's sake, what is wrong with you? This ain't the fuckin' yard, Mickey!" He gestured in the direction of the still staring Evelyn. "You don't do this shit with these people. They're nice people!"

Mickey turned his eyes away from Brian and saw her standing there for the first time. He stopped struggling against the arms restraining him in slow increments; like a clock winding down. The hateful, angry expression drained from his face and he looked away from her. He slumped in Markus's arms and stood there with Brian's blood drying on the knuckles of his right hand.

"What the hell?" She said, looking around at the men gathered before her. She stuffed the Ruger into the back of her jeans and met Luke's gaze. "What happened?"

"A misunderstanding, I'm sure," he said, sounding as if he were anything but. He looked at Mickey and his face was set in an angry scowl, "A tasteless joke rubbing against a raw nerve. Right?"

Mickey, now free of Markus since his struggling had ceased, didn't look up, "Yeah. Shit. I guess so."

Brian had a wad of paper towels pressed to his nose to staunch the flow of blood and his voice was muffled as he said, "This motherfucker here sucker-punched me in the nose and he's the one raw? Fuck that." He shrugged away from Luke's arm and stormed out of the room, muttering curses into his already soaked paper towel compress.

Evelyn moved aside so that he could leave and came further into the kitchen, "I still don't understand."

Markus cleared his throat and said, "Man, fuck it. I ain't got time for this." Then he also left, shaking his head and calling out for Brian, "Bri, my man, let me check out your nose." 

Now it was just her, Luke, Hector and Mickey. Hector looked at Evelyn and said, "Let's just drop it. It's stupid." And then he bailed, too.

She threw up her hands in exasperation and looked at the last two men in the room, "Fine. Don't tell me. Whatever the hell happened, just let me tell you this. We got enough problems without you hitting each other, okay?" Mickey's eyes turned to look at her and she could clearly see that he looked ashamed already but she didn't let that stop her. "You scared the hell out of me and Virginia and her kids. If you two can't play nice together then you're free to leave any time. We can't have this kind of shit."

She thought she saw something in Mickey's eyes then, a kind of wounded understanding, and she left the kitchen too, so angry that she couldn't stand to look at them any longer.

***

She lay on the bed in the master bedroom, glaring at the same page of an Anne Rice novel that she'd been trying to get through for at least twenty minutes, her mind intent on drifting away from comprehension of the words as she thought of the incident in the kitchen that morning only a few hours prior. 

She was still angry but now a little afraid as well. They couldn't have this kind of tension in the group. They had to work together and at least be civil to one another if they were going to survive. She was just grateful that it had only been a bloody nose because it could've been much worse. What if Mickey's reaction had been to pull his gun instead? She shook her head in horror at the mere thought of it. 

She'd only known these people for eleven days, some of them much less, but she couldn't bare the thought of one of them dying in such a senseless manner. In a world with god only knew how many sane, healthy people left, the prospect of outright murder seemed more horrific than ever.

A sudden tapping on the bedroom door pulled her out of her worrying thoughts and she took only a moment to settle her nerves before saying, "It's open."

The knob turned and Evelyn stood from the bed, expecting to see Luke or possibly Brian, and was a little shocked to see Mickey enter instead. She thought maybe he'd been angry at her because he hadn't spoken to her at all when she'd lectured him in the kitchen or afterward but here he was.

"Evelyn," he said, coming closer to her and then stopping suddenly as if he were afraid of coming too close. "Hey, I just wanted to talk to you a minute...if that's okay?"

"Sure," she said, her voice neutral. She thought it was odd the way he wouldn't look at her. As if she were the one he'd struck instead of Brian.

"I, well," he reached up to scratch at his neck, the tattooed flesh there still a little red from Markus's arm, and finally looked at her with a forlorn expression. "I'm sorry that I scared you earlier. Really, I am. I don't know what I was thinking or if I was thinking at all. He's just a skinny kid and I hit him like he was some long-timer who tried to grab my dick."

Evelyn's eyes widened in surprise and she felt color flush her cheeks. Mickey saw this and color also rose in his face as he said, "Sorry, I didn't - I mean that..."

Evelyn let out a pent up breath and said, "Uh, that's okay, Mickey. I think I know what you meant. It's just...what did he say that got you so worked up?"

Mickey looked away from her, his eyebrows furrowing as he frowned at the question. "It doesn't matter, really. Hector was saying how he'd been locked up for nearly ten years and I don't even remember what all was said but Brian, he made some dumb joke about wondering how guys could still be straight after so long or something. I - I took it the wrong way or it was the way he said it. I don't know. I just lost where I was for a second." 

He looked at her again and Evelyn thought that his eyes looked strangely hollow now, as if he were remembering a particularly bad dream. His voice dropped a register and she felt goosebumps form on her arms as he said, "Bad things happen to guys inside who look like an easy target, you know? If someone hints around or starts questioning your sexuality and you don't put that shit down immediately you might get the attention of some really fucked up people."

Evelyn looked at him for a moment, measuring her words carefully before speaking, "I can't imagine how awful it was to be in a place like that and I don't want to. But we're good people. Brian's a good person. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by what he said. You can't just haul off and hit somebody because it's habit. People aren't going to want someone who does things like that around for very long."

"I know," he said, swallowing thickly. "I'm sorry. As soon as he's had some time to cool down I'll apologize to Brian. It doesn't take back what I did but it's a start at making it better, I guess."

She shrugged and said, "Hopefully. Just, please, try not to do anything like that again."

Mickey shook his head, "I won't fuck up again, Evelyn. I promise."

"Okay," She said, "Okay, Mickey. I believe you." 

When she tried a smile on she found that he instantly responded to it in kind and she felt a little better. Not much but enough that when Mickey took his leave of her she was able to forget about it for a little while and actually managed to finish two chapters in her book.

***

Luke came to her that night as she was laying down to sleep. Her "bed" was just the old cot they'd found in the barn while Virginia and her kids had been given priority of the big bed. Evelyn didn't mind. The cot was a little hard but with a thick comforter wrapped around her and a soft pillow for her head it was actually tolerable. It also helped that it was just hers; less chance of getting an elbow in the ribs in the middle of the night.

He rapped on the door with his knuckles and then poked a head in when Virginia said, "Come in!"

His grey eyes immediately fixed on Evelyn, "Sorry to bother you but I need to talk to you a moment."

She nodded and went out into the hall with him. Luke's eyes shifted to the closed door of the room that Mickey and Hector shared, a room with two twin beds on opposite sides of the room decorated in the style of someone who expected younger visitors; giraffes, monkeys, lions, etc. The next door over was a study with a leather couch, Markus's room. 

On the opposite side of the hall was the bathroom and the room that Wyatt and Brian shared, another guest bedroom with a queen sized bed that they shared by taking turns; bed one night, sleeping bag on the floor the next. 

Luke had taken to sleeping on the sitting room couch. He said he felt like someone else should be on the floor with whoever was taking their turn keeping watch anyway, that it was safer to have two sets of eyes and ears rather than just one.

"What?" Evelyn whispered, looking at Mickey and Hector's room too. "What is it?"

Luke held a finger to his lips and nodded at the stairs. She took his meaning and followed him down. Once they were in the sitting room she stood with her arms wrapped around herself next to an ornate rocking chair, the thin T-shirt and pajama pants she wore no protection from the cold she felt emanating from a small crack in the front door. The old thermometer outside had been reading in the lower fifties at night the last six days in a row and it was only going to get colder.

"What is it?" She asked him again, barely able to make out his features in the scant light from the moon. "My feet are freezing." She rocked back on her heels and wiggled her bare toes for emphasis.

"It's about Mickey," Luke said, taking her hand and pulling her over to the couch. She sat down with him and could make out more details of his face now that he was so close. He looked worried.

"What?" She groaned. "Just friggin' tell me already."

Luke was silent a moment and Evelyn twisted her lips in an unamused smirk. She was going to lose a toe to frostbite while this bear of a man gathered his thoughts. She was getting ready to open her mouth and tell him it could wait until tomorrow when he surprised the hell out of her.

"I don't suppose you've noticed the way he looks at you?"

Evelyn's eyebrows immediately came together in a frown, "The way he what?"

Luke's eyes met hers and the moonlight turned them a ghostly grey instead of slate colored. She felt a nervous flutter in her lower belly and longed to be in her bed snuggled up instead of hearing whatever it was he had to say.

"You must not have," he said, shaking his head. "Well, I hate to break it to you, kid, but I think we have a serious case of infatuation going on."

Evelyn let out an incredulous sound and asked, "What in the fuck are you talking about, Luke?"

"How long do you think it's been since he's been near a female?" Luke asked, "He was away for seven years, he says."

"Yeah, but...." She let the word hang there a moment, that flutter of disquiet in her gut even stronger now. She recalled the way he had only stopped struggling with Markus after he saw her in the kitchen. Had that look of shame been on his face for a different reason? Because of her?

"I barely know him," she said as if that would somehow negate what Luke was saying.

"I don't think that matters to him very much," Luke told her. "But you...you don't feel the same way, do you?"

She raised her hands, "Uh, I just said I barely know him."

Luke nodded, "That's what I thought. Well, I hate to put this on your shoulders, Evelyn, but you're going to have to break him off easy. We saw today that he has one hell of a temper. Guys like that sometimes don't take rejection very well."

Evelyn nodded, thinking of Jason. She'd worn the bruises from his reaction to rejection for the better part of a week. 

"I don't think Mickey would hurt me," she said, not wanting to dwell on Jason any more than she already did, wanting to believe that this wasn't that serious. "I mean, he did when we first met him but the circumstances were a little different then."

"Yes," Luke holding up one thick finger in the gloom. "But you have to be ready for the possibility, Evelyn. 'Hope for the best and expect the worst', my mother was fond of saying."

Evelyn worried over this a moment and finally said, "Maybe nothing will come of it."

"Maybe," Luke shrugged, "But it might end up being a problem. Best to nip it in the bud before it has a chance to grow any further. Either way, I want you to be careful, okay?"

Evelyn nodded and excused herself to leave the room, navigating the darkened steps leading up to the bedrooms with her head full of frightening questions.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mickey POV)

~Mickey~

The next day, October 22nd, Mickey was sitting in the Silverado next to Luke and Markus when they saw their first mass migration of infected.

Luke slowed down on the highway next to a mile marker and they all gaped as they stared out of the window at the horde of moving bodies in the open field about two hundred yards from their position. The infected walked over the huge cotton field and crushed the plants beneath their feet, stirring up a dust cloud around them that partially shrouded them and made them appear ghostly. Even from so far away Mickey felt a chill run up his spine at the sight of them.

"There must be a thousand of them," Hector said.

"Where the fuck are they going?" Markus asked, his deep voice sounding almost childlike with fear. "There's nothing out here."

"There's farm houses," Luke said, never looking away from the infected. "And probably people inside holed up just like us. Who knows how many people out there are immune to this virus. Obviously we are so it would stand to reason that there would be others." 

He turned suddenly to point at the field on the right side of the road and they all turned their heads to look. There was a cow pond in the center of a large plot of land and there spread throughout the field dotted with trees they could see the huge bones of livestock. In a spot further up the road the barbwire fence was broken down and there were clear tracks leading away farther down the road. Mickey imagined that the cows who had managed to get away had been spurred on even faster by the sound of their bovine brethren being devoured by the human herd.

"They ate the cows who were left behind," Luke told them, turning his attention back to the horde on the left of them. "Probably the ones who were young, sick or injured in the stampede out of there. Now they're moving on to find more food. Cows or people, they don't care."

"How could they eat a cow alive?" Brian asked from his place next to Hector in the back seat, his brown eyes full of terror and his voice pogoing up and down like a pubescent boy's.

"With so many of them it probably wouldn't be that difficult," Hector offered. "They bit and clawed until they got through their hides and then...steak tartare."

After a moment of silence Mickey asked, "How far are we from the house?"

Luke thought a moment and said, "At least twenty miles out. But they're headed east so unless they double back that one will miss us."

"What do you mean 'that one'?" Brian asked, his face pale with anxiety.

Luke took his foot off of the brake and got the truck moving again. "I have a feeling there will be more."

***

Twenty minutes later they were back in Delbrook and on Main Street again. "Look at the bar," Markus said, pointing with one thick finger up the street. "Most of them are gone."

In front of 'Boot Scooters' there were five infected left in front of the broken door and at least two of them appeared to be weepers. Another one, a young man with a filthy red sweatshirt and a Texas Rangers baseball cap on his head, was doing something they hadn't seen before; walking in a never-ending circle rapidly around a newspaper box that read 'Dallas Morning News'. They watched as he did it until he was dizzy, listing further and further to his left, and then he tipped over, striking his head on the edge of the blue metal and then laying on the ground looking up at the sky. After a moment of rapidly blinking his eyes, the young man struggled to his feet and resumed his frantic pacing around the newspaper box, blood flowing freely from a three inch gash on his left temple.

"Goddamned freaky ass lunatics," Mickey said, his upper lip curled into a sneer of disgust. "Why would they even do this shit? It makes no sense."

"Who knows?" Hector answered, his voice neutral. "Just thank God that he's not paying any attention to us."

"The others must have wandered off after us the last time we were here," Luke said, his grey eyes still watching the boy in the Rangers hat and rubbing his hand against his stubble in that nervous gesture again. Another week and he'd have the start of a fine salt-and-pepper beard. "They were probably in that herd we saw earlier."

Markus was nodding, "Yeah, that's probably right. Crazy motherfuckers chased us for almost half a mile."

"Good for us, though," Mickey added. "Now we can get to that hardware store no problem."

"Okay, sightseeing is over," Luke said, shifting the Silverado into reverse and backing up to turn into the alley again. "Daylight's wasting, folks."

So they went through the alley again, running over a few infected wandering the dirt path, and as they passed the back door of 'Boot Scooters' they all turned to look inside. There was only one infected that they could see, one of those headbangers scrambling her brains against the brick wall next to the security door, and then they were driving past.

Coming out of the mouth of the alley Luke turned left and then right, coasting into the parking lot of the hardware store. The lights were on inside and they could see through the front windows that the shop looked deserted. Movement from the corner of his eye drew his gaze that way and Mickey saw one of the crying people step away from a display of fertilizer stacked against the front wall. It was an old woman with a neck brace and a torn house dress, limping on an injured foot and bawling her eyes out. From their vantage point inside the truck they could see no signs of any aggressive infected.

Luke turned off the engine and said, "Let's get this done, guys. Everyone got their secondaries?"

Markus lifted the meat cleaver he'd brought from the house and said, "Right here."

The others nodded, getting their blunt or bladed weapons in hand, and Luke seemed satisfied. "Okay," he said, producing his crowbar as well. "No time like the present."

They got out and headed for the entrance. The glass door leading in was shut and when they pulled it open there was a chiming sound that could be heard even in the parking lot. They hesitated, waiting with held breath to see if any infected would respond, and only continued forward after seeing that the coast was still clear.

As they'd discussed the afternoon before, they separated and went in opposite directions in search of supplies so that they could cover more ground and be out of there faster than if they'd stayed together. After Mickey procured a basket he followed Markus as he walked toward the lumber section. Hector, Brian and Luke took their basket and headed towards tools and appliances.

While rolling the basket down the deserted aisles, Mickey heard the weeping old lady and a slow, continuous thumping somewhere that signaled another headbanger in their midst but all else was quiet. Coming upon the lumber they saw that they wouldn't be getting away with much; only ten boards were cut and the rest of the wood still lay in big stacked sheets waiting to be cut by the huge yellow saw standing off to one side. They loaded up all of the cut wood, long 2x4 boards full of splinters, into the basket and went in search of more. After poking around for a minute they found nothing else useful and started back down the aisle they'd come from. They'd both been so intent on the task that neither of them had noticed that the thumping had stopped.

They came to the end of the aisle to turn again when the sound of snarling came from behind them.

Whirling around with his heart in his throat, Mickey barely saw the woman who launched herself at Markus. There was a sudden blur of color and then Markus grunted in surprised pain. Mickey saw her teeth buried in the meaty forearm he'd held up to ward her off and then Markus brought the meat cleaver down hard on her scrawny neck, very nearly decapitating her. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating them and everything around them in warm red, and her knees sagged. Markus dislodged her from his wounded arm and she fell to the floor to bleed out her last moments, the expression of rage on her face slowly fading into one of confusion.

"Fuck," Markus whispered, his eyes never leaving his arm as blood began to trickle out of the torn flesh and drip down onto the stone floor. "Bitch got me good."

"At least they're not really zombies," Mickey told him with a crooked smile, feeling relieved to see that Markus wasn't too badly hurt. "I'd hate to see how many people you could eat in a day."

Markus's chocolate brown eyes met Mickey's green ones and for a moment he only looked at him; a pained, worried expression stamped deeply into his face. Then his face cleared and broke into a wide smile as he said, "I hear that. I could probably eat at least five white boys like you a day."

Mickey chuckled softly, "Yeah, probably. Come on. We'd better get that wrapped up as soon as we can."

They continued on their way to find the others and went about their business without another incident. By the time they were done it was mid-afternoon and they'd gathered the small supply of lumber along with; nails, hammers, screwdrivers, saws, axes, a roll of twenty plastic drop cloths, ten coils of rope, batteries of all sorts, cordless drills, screws, and ten of those five gallon plastic containers to use for storing gas and water.

Satisfied with their finds, they headed back out to the parking lot and began loading it all up in the bed of the truck as quickly and quietly as possible. When Hector dropped a 2x4, however, it clattered noisily on the pavement and drew out four headbangers who were in the vicinity. They charged and were subsequently put down one by one without a shot being fired. Climbing back into the truck afterwards Mickey breathed a sigh of relief. At least the hard part was over.

***

They took a different road heading back to the farmhouse and about ten miles from their destination they came upon a tiny convenience store with two gas pumps out front. They had passed by this one before when it had been dark and deserted three days ago but now there were fresh boards up over the windows. As they slowed to a stop just beyond the pumps Mickey saw that there was a light on inside; a bright shine between the cracks in the boards. As he leaned more toward the window and looked closer, he spotted movement from within and the light suddenly went out.

"Someone's inside," Mickey told the others, his heart rate doubling immediately. "A light just turned off."

Luke's hand dropped away from the door handle, and reached under his arm for his gun, "What the - "

The sudden crack of a gunshot rang out in the still air and a bullet ricocheted off of the hood of the truck. They all ducked without thinking and drew their guns, ready to return fire. 

A strident old man's voice called out to them, "What d'ya want? Come to loot my place of business?"

Mickey rolled down his window about a third of the way and shouted, "We came for gas!"

A barrel withdrew from a crack in the door and it opened wider, revealing an old man with thin white hair wearing a pair of dirty overalls and a checkered shirt. He had an old .22 rifle in his gnarled hand and his eyes squinted as he peered out at them.

"Gas?" He said, stepping out a little. "Might be we could work something out if ya'll got anything to trade for it."

Luke raised his hands and bellowed, "I'm stepping out! Don't shoot!"

The old man took the rifle in both hands again and brought it up to his shoulder as Luke opened the door and stepped outside. He didn't look down the sight, however, so Mickey took that as a good sign. The old man had to be in his seventies at least and probably couldn't hit the broadside of a barn but it still made him uneasy. Even if he missed Luke, the old geezer might hit one of them with his hands shaking the way they were.

Luke went around the front of the truck with his hands raised high above his head, "You aren't gonna shoot me are you, old fella? We can trade if that's what you want. There doesn't need to be any violence."

The old man's hands continued to shake terribly while Luke spoke to him but he still didn't aim, only held the barrel in Luke's general direction as the tip wavered wildly from side to side. "I ain't gonna shoot ya if ya have somethin' to trade. Try to loot my place and I'll put ya down," the old man's quavering voice warned.

Mickey held onto the Browning Luke had given him, thinking he might have to shoot the old guy if he didn't put that rifle down soon. Who knew how much pressure his geriatric finger was putting on the trigger? How much closer he was to letting a shot go wild and possibly killing one of them?

"Relax," Luke said, coming closer. "We're not here to rob you. What is it you're looking to trade for?"

"What d'ya got?"

"Well," Luke cast a look over his shoulder at the men in the truck watching this exchange and then looked back at the old man. "How well armed are you? You need ammo for that rifle?"

The old man finally lowered the gun to about waist level, making Mickey let out an explosive little breath of air in relief. 

"Oh, I got plenty of that," he said. "Food and water, too. What else ya got?"

Luke's hands had lowered to shoulder level and he came another step closer to the man in the doorway, "What about a pistol and some ammo for it? What would that get me in trade?"

The old man considered for only a moment and finally pointed the barrel of the rifle down safely at the ground. "Well, that'd just about getcha anything ya need," he said, smiling and showing a mouthful of worn yellow teeth that were obviously his own. "What kinda pistol we talkin' about?"

"I've got a Taurus Model 66 .357 and a Browning Hi-Power 9mm I can trade you," Luke told him. "Either of those strike your fancy?"

The old guy nodded, his thin white hair floating around his head like dandelion fluff from the breeze this movement generated, "Yuh, they do sound temptin'. Hope ya don't mind if I inspect 'em before we go through with this deal."

"Of course," Luke said, holding up one finger. "Give me a moment?"

The old guy nodded and Luke turned back to the truck. Mickey rolled the window down as he neared and leaned into the cab. "Hector, Mickey, I'm going to need those back now."

Mickey wanted to protest but knew that it wouldn't do any good. The gun had never really belonged to him no matter how much safer it might've made him feel. So he handed the Browning over and Hector handed over the Model 66. Luke collected them, took out the clip from one and used the ejector to pop out bullets from the other into his palm, and then turned back around to return to the old man.

Mickey watched as the old man examined the 9mm and then the the .357. From the way that the old man frowned at the revolver he knew that he was going to lose the Browning. The old guy asked to examine the 9mm again and then nodded to himself as if answering a question only he could hear.

"Ya got clips for this one, I guess," the old guy said, holding up Mickey's gun. "Ain't gonna do me a lick of good without extra clips."

Luke took the clip he'd ejected from the gun out of his pocket and held it up for the old guy to see, "Four already loaded and half a box of ammo. Sound fair?"

The old guy nodded, "Yuh, fair enough. I imagine you're going to want to fill up more than just the tank of that truck. You got gas cans?"

Luke said that they did and the deal was done. They filled the tank and half of the big five gallon plastic containers they'd taken from the hardware store. As they worked the old man leaned against the pump and chatted at them, his unsteady old man's voice droning on and on until Mickey wanted to scream at him to just shut the fuck up already.

"Where y'all stayin' at?" He asked at one point.

Luke answered, "Close." But wouldn't say any more; obviously wary about giving out too much information. 

Not that they had much to fear from an old man like him, Mickey thought. He might've gotten the Browning but even with that the guy wouldn't have much chance of surviving the next week. If the infected found him out here all by his lonesome they would likely tear him apart before he could even chamber the first round. If he'd been asked Mickey would've said that it was a waste of a good gun.

"I had me a little place in town," the old guy went on, breaking Mickey's train of thought. "But those sickos were makin' me nervous. Stumbling 'n bumbling around all hours of the night and day. My great-nephew David got me outta the home place and I suggested we come out here where we could see most anything coming before it could see us. Owned this place since the 70's when my father died and David took care of the day to day while I put my feet up. Boarded up the windas with his help, then he got the bright idea to go back to town to look for some supplies." He shook his head and blew his nose into a wrinkled old handkerchief he'd pulled from his back pocket. "It's been two days and I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since. I guess they got him and ate him up just like they did most everyone else who was still somewhat right in the head." He said this last bit in a matter-of-fact tone as if there couldn't have been any other outcome. Mickey had a feeling that the old guy thought it was no great loss anyway.

"We was livin' on what little we got inside. Chips and those little microwave burritos mostly," the old man prattled on, seeming not to care one way or the other if anyone was actually listening to him. "Nasty damned things always gum up my works and get me sittin' on the john for hours. Got lucky and traded gas with some other folks for my supply of food and water. I'll be here 'til next summer on what I got. They had plenty though, big caravan of people like that heading up north had better be well stocked, I suppose."

Luke had been checking the oil levels in the Silverado but he'd also been paying some attention to the man, it seemed. "Did they say where they were going up north?" He asked, interested but not overly so.

The old man scratched at some busted blood vessels on the right side of his big nose. "Michigan, I believe it was. I don't recall exactly where," he said with a shake his head. "Something about a town where they were building walls up around the place. They seemed to think they could weather it out there."

The old man fell silent for a moment and squinted around at the empty fields and wooded areas that surrounded the tiny gas station. "Those folks said they'd heard things wasn't so bad up north," he said, his rheumy eyes distant. "Them sick ones, they don't stay put, you know. They roam around looking for things to eat. I guess it'd be harder for 'em to wander where it gets so cold your toes are apt to fall off. After that bunch I saw stomping through the fields earlier I think maybe they had the right idea of it."

Now the old man had their full attention. 

"How many of them were there?" Mickey asked, speaking for only the second time since they'd arrived. "The herd of crazy fucks. Where did they go?"

"I saw 'em coming long before they got here," the old man intoned. "Turned out my light and stayed quiet so they didn't trouble me none. But I'd say maybe fifty or so of 'em stomped off in that direction."

He lifted one shaky, gnarled finger and pointed to the north west. Right toward the farmhouse where Evelyn and the others waited.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Wyatt POV)

~Wyatt~

Wyatt looked out from between the boards over the sitting room window and watched the infected approach. Dirty, dishevelled men, women and even a few children were crossing the front yard; zeroing in on the house where they cowered with the shades drawn and every light turned out. He guessed that there were at least a couple dozen of them, maybe more, and while they didn't seem to be in any particular rush, they all had their eyes turned to the house and marched inexorably forward.

After she'd spotted them coming, Evelyn told Virginia to take Jack and the kids into the master bedroom upstairs and lock the door. Wyatt had convinced her to let him stay, saying that if something went wrong she couldn't be the only one defending the place, and she'd relented out of necessity rather than out of confidence in his abilities to help her. He was certain that if even one of the other men had been there she wouldn't have even considered letting him remain downstairs.

Luke hadn't wanted to give him the Mossberg 500 he now carried, either. Even though Wyatt had been hunting with his dad and uncles every winter since he was eight and had assured Luke that he knew how to handle a shotgun, the big man had been reluctant. They all thought he was still messed up from what had happened to his family and, though they weren't exactly wrong, Wyatt thought that he couldn't just stand by and hide with the children. He was almost grown and he had to start acting like it. His father had been right about that much.

He watched one of the infected, a skinny woman in nothing but a filthy bra and panties, fall onto the gravel road and get tromped on by her equally ragged companions. They walked right over her without really seeing her and a few of them stumbled but only one other fell down with her. After they'd finished smashing her into the rocks she struggled back to her feet and began following the others again, blood trickling out of her nose and from a small cut on her collarbone. The other one who'd fallen, a kid probably only a couple of years younger than him, also got to his feet and plodded along behind her, his mouth hung open and eyes wide in a vacuous expression.

As they came close enough for him to start seeing more details, Wyatt sucked in a harsh gasp and quickly turned away, blinking back sudden tears in his eyes.

From her place on her knees next to him Evelyn whispered, "What's wrong?"

For a moment his grief was too huge to answer her. He felt like all the air had been sucked out of his chest and he was cold all over. "I know some of 'em," he whispered back. "The girl with the ponytail was in my class."

Evelyn continued to peer out of the window for a moment and then turned to him, her Ruger held tightly in one trembling hand, "You can go upstairs with the others if you want."

Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut tight, feeling the tears trickle down his cheeks, and turned back to the window, telling himself he had to be strong and brave. He had to be a grown man now.

He looked out at Ashley Harper, saw the dried blood on the front of her formerly white hoody and the way her slender arm hung awkwardly from a dislocated shoulder, and didn't recognize the bubbly blonde he'd had a crush on since the fifth grade. Ashley Harper, for all intents and purposes, was gone. That might be her body plodding along with the others but all the grace and liveliness he'd admired in her before was now missing. She'd ceased to exist the moment the virus had infected her. She was just one among countless others who weren't really people anymore.

As his eyes drifted away from his former crush, he saw a few others that he knew. Next to Ashley was the lady who ran the pumpkin patch at Halloween, Mrs. Sawtell. Her grey hair was still in a frayed bun and her glasses hanging on the chain around her neck had cracked and was missing a lens. Her sweatshirt, depicting a kitten in a basket full of different colored yarns, was covered with blood so old that it looked rust colored and she snapped her teeth at the air as she walked on. He also saw Mr. Tully, the jovial buffoon who owned the auto parts store in Worthy, and Ms. Quinton the school librarian, who had always been so kind.

These were people he knew, people he'd spoken with or gone to church with; who'd cheered for him as offensive tackle on the football team and donated to the uniform fund. But they were people no more than a rabid dog is a pet. It didn't matter who they'd once been; now they were shambling nightmares who wouldn't hesitate to rip his throat out just as his sister Amy had done to their little brother Vince. He could beg and plead and scream but it wouldn't make any difference. His cries would fall on deaf ears and they'd rip him apart if given the chance.

Evelyn touched his shoulder and he almost screamed. 

"We need to get away from the window," she whispered. "I don't want to take any chances even with the drapes mostly closed."

Wyatt nodded and they hurried away from the window and into the shadows of the alcove that led to the stairway. He heard the approach of the infected long before the shape of their shadows fell over the front windows; the heavy clump of their feet on the wooden porch, the thud as another one of them fell over. There was another jarring thud as one of them ran into the front door and they saw three distinct shadows over the frosted glass, one of them raising a hand to ineffectually slap at it.

There was an even harder thud as one of them ran into the side of the house near the large oak bookcase in the sitting room. They hit the side of the house again and a sudden volley of barks drifted down to them from upstairs.

Wyatt and Evelyn had just enough time to look at each other with widening eyes and then the sound of glass shattering made them both jump.

An arm wriggled through a jagged hole in the front door's frosted glass window between the two boards that had been nailed over it, heedless of the jagged pieces sinking into its flesh. The sound of snarling filled the air around them as blood dripped and ran down on their side of the door. A bigger crash from the sitting room and two more arms were reaching through the window they'd been peeking out of; swiping and grasping at the air as Jack continued to bark noisily upstairs.

There was the sound of more glass shattering somewhere off in the direction to the right, probably in the kitchen, and Evelyn took his free hand in hers. "Time to go," she said and pulled him up the stairs as even more sounds of windows breaking and snarls from the infected filled the lower level of the house.

Halfway up the stairs they heard a really heavy thud and then the unmistakable sound of wood cracking. The snarling became louder as something landed in the sitting room below and behind them and then Evelyn was racing even faster up the stairs with him, never once letting go of his hand.

They reached the second floor and sprinted to the master bedroom. Evelyn released his hand and beat her open palm against the door, forgetting all about being quiet as something began to clamber up the stairs after them.

"Open up!" She cried, panicking. "Virginia! Please!"

Wyatt turned around to face the stairs, hearing the infected bounding up the wooden steps, their heavy footfalls drawing closer and closer. He stood there with his big body shaking, his hazel eyes huge and terrified, trying to remember to keep his finger outside the trigger guard until it was time to shoot. He was so scared that he couldn't even pray coherently, he just whispered, "Please, God. Please, God. Please." Over and over while the sound of growling and footsteps grew louder on the stairs.

The lock turned and the door to the master bedroom opened just as the first infected reached the landing. Mr. Tully stood there with soiled trousers and a button down shirt splattered with crusted gore, snapping his teeth together in anticipation of his next feast. Wyatt raised the shotgun to his shoulder, thumbing off the safety, and put his finger inside the trigger guard.

Something knocked him rudely aside in its haste to exit the master bedroom and he very nearly blew his own foot off as the barrel of the shotgun drifted downward. Wyatt released the trigger and stood there gaping in shock as Jack took a running leap at Mr. Tully; snapping and growling as if he'd also gone rabid. The man who had once held a thousand corny Dad jokes in his balding head clumsily caught him in a bear hug, perhaps meaning to crush the canine, but Jack's teeth found his neck before that happened. Growling ferociously, Jack bit deeply and tore his throat out with a jerk, blood splattering the wallpaper next to them. Mr. Tully fell to the ground and Jack fell with him, his teeth continuing to rip and tear with all four of his paws planted on the man's chest. 

Wyatt felt a hand grab his elbow and pull him inside the bedroom as sounds of more infected on the stairs reached his stunned ears. He stumbled on a little rug just inside the door and would've fallen if Virginia hadn't been there to catch him. Evelyn slammed the door and turned the lock before heading for the big dresser three feet away, stuffing the Ruger in the back of her pants as she did so.

She grabbed one end and began to push, straining and struggling, her brown hair stuck to her face in sweaty strings. "Help!" She ordered Wyatt and Virginia. "I don't know how long Jack will keep them busy!"

Wyatt and Virginia both moved to obey and, with their help, the three of them were able to push the dresser in front of the door. Jack's steady growling interspersed with barks was very clear in the hall outside. After a moment they could hear him barking again as he went downstairs to confront the rest of the infected, moving further and further away as his barks grew fainter. Now the loudest sound was Josie and Lilly huddled on the bed crying in each other's arms.

Wyatt retrieved the Mossberg from where he'd dropped it on the floor and then he and the women were backing away from the door. Virginia went to sit with her daughters and held them to her, whispered that it was okay, everything was going to be okay and that they were safe now.

"You left Jack outside," Josie sniffled, whispering just as low as her mother did. "Those zombie people are going to eat him, aren't they?"

Virginia shook her head and smoothed Josie's dark hair away from her tear-stained face, "No, no, sweetheart. He'll be fine."

They could only hear him barking very faintly now but it sounded to Wyatt like it was coming from outside the house. He thought if they'd been able to see the front yard from the windows of this room they probably would've seen Jack running circles around the infected, barking noisily at them to get their attention and lead them away. Wyatt smiled a little at the thought of it. He'd always liked a good cattle dog.

Evelyn had the same thought apparently, turning to him and whispering, "Do you think he can draw them all away? Lead them off far enough so they'll forget about us?"

Wyatt shrugged his big shoulders to indicate that he wasn't certain of anything and then Virginia whispered loudly, "Is that what he's doing? If so that's one smart goddamned dog."

"Mommy, that's a bad word," Lilly chastised in her soft voice. "It's not nice to say bad words."

Virginia smiled at her daughter and hugged her to her ample bosom with tears in her eyes. Wyatt and Evelyn retreated to the bed and sat with their weapons in hand, waiting as the sound of Jack's barking faded away completely.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)

~Evelyn~

She heard gunshots outside and quickly stood from the bed. Moving toward the door, she heard a shout and then the unmistakable boom of a shotgun. 

"Oh thank God they're back," she whispered, unaware that she was speaking out loud.

Wyatt's whisper from behind her made her jump, "Sounds like Jack didn't lure all of those freaks away."

She showed him a shaky smile that didn't reach her eyes, "Don't worry. Luke and the others will clear the rest of them out."

Wyatt nodded and lifted his sweat-stained baseball cap to mop at his brow with the back of one hand, "Yeah, okay."

Three more shots rang out, all from different calibers by the sound of it, and then she heard someone calling her name out from somewhere downstairs. "Help me," she said to Wyatt and he hurried to one side of the dresser and she to the other. They both grunted as they pushed the heavy dresser back enough so that she could unlock and open the door. 

She stepped out and turned to her right, meaning to head for the stairs. As she did she heard a shuffling step and then a deep growl from her left. Turning that way with her gun up, she caught just a glimpse of the darkened figure in the hallway before he grabbed her neck in one incredibly strong hand.

Evelyn saw teeth coming out of the dark and there wasn't time to think about it; she just let her reflexes do the thinking for her. She pointed at the figure, screamed and squeezed the trigger of the Ruger at the same time. The gunshot was deafening in such close quarters and she shut her eyes tight, thinking that she'd missed and would feel those teeth sink into her any moment.

But even as Wyatt moved to pull her back the thing holding her throat relaxed his grip and his knees buckled beneath him, dropping him to the floor at her feet. She stared down at the man with the bleeding hole where his left eye had been only seconds before; her ears ringing so loudly she didn't hear the men bounding up the stairs.

She was still looking down at the dead man with Wyatt's hand on one shoulder when another pair of rough hands grabbed her hand and pulled her away. She finally looked up and saw Mickey standing there, his green eyes wide and frightened, blood splashed across his face and shirt. He had his gore-covered machete tucked into his belt and his mouth was moving at her. He was saying something but she couldn't make out the words at all.

She swallowed and her ears popped, causing the ringing in her ears to grow much fainter and returning sound to the world again.

"What?" She asked.

"Are you okay? Did it hurt you?"

She shook her head and then Luke was there standing over Mickey's shoulder. She pulled away from Mickey and turned to face the older man, not noticing the frown that passed over his face as she drew away from him. 

"They came up on the house out of nowhere and Jack started barking so they smashed their way in. He led them off about half an hour ago," She told him. Pointing at the dead one in front of the door, she continued, "This one didn't take the bait, I guess."

Luke put his gun in its holster and said, "I'm glad that you're all okay. When we saw the windows we feared the worst."

Virginia came up to join them with tears drying on her reddened cheeks and said, "They wouldn't have even tried to get in if that dog had shut the hell up."

"Yeah but they wouldn't have stopped coming after us if he hadn't lured them away," Evelyn said with a sigh, rubbing at her eyes, feeling the adrenaline finally decaying and leaving her tired. "It doesn't matter now, anyway. What's done is done."

"Okay," Luke said, touching Evelyn's shoulder with one big hand. "The one you shot seems to be the last of them up here. Hector and Markus are sweeping the rest of the house downstairs. Let's go and get you something to drink, huh?"

Evelyn allowed herself to be led back downstairs where she saw two more dead infected sprawled out awkwardly on the floor, blood pooling beneath their unmoving forms. One was a girl not much older than Lilly and she turned her eyes away hurriedly, the brutal truth of their situation hitting her in the stomach like a fist and leaving her feeling sick. She didn't think she'd ever get used to a sight like that. She didn't want to.

Markus came out of the dining room just as they were going in and said, "All clear. Looks like we got the ones who made it in."

"Good," Luke said, clapping one hand on his big shoulder. "I'll help you guys start loading things in the house in just a minute. Then we'll get rid of the bodies."

Markus nodded and Luke led her through the dining room and into the kitchen with Wyatt and Mickey trailing close behind them. Once in the kitchen, Luke brought her to a barstool and let her sit. Wyatt fetched a couple of bottles of water out of the refrigerator and brought one to her before cracking one open for himself.

They both gulped down the liquid greedily and they all sat at the island with her. "Jack saved us," She said, speaking to them all but keeping her eyes on Luke's. "If he hadn't led them away you guys would've come back to bury our corpses."

Luke shook his head, "No. You did fine. You protected the children, that's what matters."

Evelyn began to cry in relief then and she felt someone's arm go around her shoulders. She leaned into it and sobbed into Wyatt's chest, smearing blood and snot and tears all over the front of his clean white shirt without a single complaint from the boy.

***

She desperately tried to sleep that night but she was freezing. They'd taped up the plastic drop cloths the men had taken from the hardware store over the broken windows downstairs but the draft coming in was still terrible. Virgina and her kids were sleeping soundly in each other's warmth but even with the thick comforter she'd been using she could feel her toes going numb. She wiggled them to get some feeling back but it didn't do any good.

Frustrated, she threw the comforter off of her legs and got up. Even with thick socks on her feet and flannel pajamas that had belonged to Boyd's dead wife on her body, she was still cold all over. She stood and made her way to the door, slipping out soundlessly into the hallway. She crept downstairs and found Luke on the sitting room couch bundled in a big paisley comforter and smoking a cigarette.

When he saw her coming he snubbed it out in a little ceramic dish half smoked and smiled that crooked smile of his. 

"Hey," he said as she sat next to him. "Can't sleep?"

She shook her head and rubbed her hands over her arms, "It's too cold with the windows busted out down here. I don't know how you can stand it."

"This helps," he said, nodding at his puffy armor. He lifted an arm and disclosed his sweatshirt clad chest. "Don't be shy. Climb in and get warm."

She smiled back at him and got under cover with him, sliding her slender legs in next to his much thicker ones and leaning against him. The warmth that had been generated from his body permeated her and she sighed in pleasure. It was like being enveloped in a warm cocoon and her toes and fingers finally began to thaw a bit.

Snuggling up even closer to him, she said, "Thanks."

He nodded again, "Don't mention it."

They sat in silence for a moment and then he said, "You can't imagine how happy I was to come back and find you all in one piece. When I saw the windows and the infected outside..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Well, it didn't happen so best not to think of it."

She snuggled closer to him, unable to keep herself from noticing how muscular the body beneath his sweatshirt was. For an old guy he sure didn't seem to have an old guy body. It wasn't exactly surprising though, she'd seen what Luke could do.

"I'm also glad that everything turned out the way that it did. Being eaten by a maniac would've really put a damper on my day."

Luke chuckled softly and she felt his arm go around her, pulling her closer, taking heat from her even as she took his. "No way you would've been eaten," he said, "You're a lot tougher than you think."

She beamed from the compliment and suddenly leaned over to peck his scarred cheek without realizing that's what she meant to do. The skin was hairless and oddly shaped under her lips for the brief moment she pressed them against him. It made her think of kissing an oil painting.

He raised an eyebrow at her in bewilderment, "What was that for?"

Suddenly she was embarrassed. That kiss on his cheek had been completely unlike her and the impulsiveness of it made her feel incredibly stupid.

"I don't know," she said in a small voice. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

He shook his head and shrugged slightly, "No, don't worry about it. I'll take it. You're a sweet kid."

Eventually her embarrassment faded and she leaned her head against his chest, closing her eyes and thinking of how she used to sit with her dad on the sofa like this sometimes when they were watching a movie or one of his boring football games. She hadn't really cared what had been on the television though, it'd been fun just to sit with her father and listen to him explain about what penalty flags meant or why the men slapped each other on their rear ends (which had made her giggle endlessly for some reason as a ten year old). It had meant everything to her to have him and her mother in her life. Without any brothers or sisters she was a lonely and awkward child. 

When her mother died it had been just the two of them and even though at first it had seemed impossible that she'd ever smile again, eventually she had and it was all thanks to her father. He had set a large chunk of his grief aside to deal with in silence just so he could focus on caring for her while she dealt with her own. He had helped her through everything and sometime after, maybe a year or so, Evelyn had been surprised to find that she was happy again. She would never stop missing her mom; her singing, her laughter, the way her eyes had crinkled at the corners when she smiled. But she had been happy and some of the best afternoons of her childhood were spent just hanging out with her dad and talking.

Still thinking of her parents, she drifted off to sleep with a faint smile on her lips, Luke's warmth melting the chill that had seeped into her every pore. She didn't notice the figure standing in the darkened alcove in front of the staircase behind them and to their right. Neither did Luke. 

If they had they might've been troubled by the look of burning envy on Mickey's face.

***

The next day they all agreed that they had to abandon the farmhouse and find something more suitable. The fact that the power chose that exact day to cut out only emphasized the point. They'd have to move on and find somewhere that the power grid was still on, or better yet, one of those luxurious ranches with the wind turbines generating their own unlimited power.

As they were loading up everything into the Silverado and the moving truck, Evelyn heard a soft whine behind her and turned to see Jack sitting on his haunches with his tail wagging slowly back and forth.

She cried out in delighted surprise and fell to her knees, hugging Jack's furry body to her and laughing as he enthusiastically slathered his wet tongue across her face. The others came around at the sound of her cry and surrounded Jack with enough attention to have him rolling on his back in ecstasy again.

As Evelyn watched Lilly and Josie nearly crying with joy she actually believed for a moment that everything was going to be okay somehow. That they'd make it through this together and ride out the end of the world in relative security.

She wanted to believe that there could be hope in this fucked up crazy world again.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Markus POV)

~Markus~

That day, October the 23rd, they had all decided to go west for a little while instead of east before heading north again, hoping to avoid the obvious dangers of the DFW Metroplex directly to the north of them or the even more dense concrete sprawl of Houston and it's surrounding cities to the southeast. They drove down endless farm roads for hours and hours and at one point Markus thought Luke had gotten them hopelessly lost. Then they found a highway and the ride went a lot smoother. There were a lot more wrecks and a few small towns to skirt around but for quite some time their journey was uneventful. They made frequent stops at gas stations to fill up the tanks in an effort to save the gas they had stored in those five gallon containers for as long as possible and to get a few other supplies, filling every gas can they found and adding it to their stash. 

Luke surprised the children with Slurpees at one gas run they made to a 7-11 and Markus had been so thankful for the smiles it put on their faces that he didn't even mind having to kill the crazy clerks who'd been inside. Seeing them be happy kids again, even if only briefly, made him feel happy too.

Much later that afternoon it all changed, however, when they were just outside of some nothing town called Dover Creek and came upon an abandoned military checkpoint. It was the first they'd seen up close, avoiding the others even though they appeared just as deserted as this one was. It would take too much time to backtrack and avoid the one before them now and Markus was torn between hope and fear about running into any soldiers that might be left. Despite his reservations, when Luke slowed the Silverado to a crawl in front of him, Markus slowed the moving truck down to match his speed, and when Luke came to a stop Markus did likewise.

He watched the occupants of the Silverado and could see Luke rubbing at his face again before turning to the others to say something. For a moment it looked like he was arguing with Evelyn and then Mickey and although Markus couldn't read people's thoughts or their lips, he knew that the others wanted to leave and Luke wanted to stay. Luke was right, of course, they needed every bit of supplies they could find.

Virginia and her kids were crammed into the cab of the box truck with Markus and he could almost feel the woman's fear radiating out from her like ripples in a pond. He wondered if she could sense how scared he was too.

"What's going on?" She asked, her face left colorless by her sudden fear and her amber eyes darting all over the place; looking for danger at every possible angle. "Why are we stopping? Let's just drive right past. No one's here."

There were olive green Humvees on either side of a smashed sawhorse barricade, parked half on the shoulder and half on the road in a way that turned the two lane highway into a defensive bottleneck that would allow only one vehicle to pass at a time, both of them displaying the official seal of the United States Army on the doors and huge 50 caliber machine guns mounted on top. There was a large splash of blood on the hood of the Humvee to their left and a dead soldier lying near the front tire of the one on the right. Markus could see more bodies laid out behind the Humvee with the splash of blood on it and, while one or two of them appeared to be wearing army fatigues, the rest were in jeans or dresses or overalls. Civilians then, probably infected. As for the line of vehicles parked by the densely packed treeline, the best he could hope for was that they had met a kinder fate and been evacuated.

"Markus," Virginia said, sounding as if she were going to lose her shit completely at any moment. "What the hell is going on?!"

He held up one big hand and silenced her, "Look, right now I don't know any more than you do."

She sat back unmollified and clutched her children's hands in her own, obviously struggling to keep her silence. Markus waited until he saw Luke open the driver's side door of the Silverado and turned to Virginia, drawing his Beretta from his waistband as he spoke, "Stay here."

Her eyes shifted toward him and then away again, touching on the Humvees, the dead bodies, the cars parked in a line on either side of them and then back to him again. "Yeah," she said, her voice breathless and shaking. "Don't worry. I'm not going for a leisurely stroll in the freaking woods today."

Markus opened the door and stepped out, the putrid smell of rotting bodies thrown at him by a gust of wind and making him gag for a moment. He thought that the smell was bad enough but what really bothered him about this whole thing was the same thing that had worried Virginia; all those trees surrounding them on both sides of the highway. The fucking trees standing there like gloomy sentinels still mostly draped in leaves and the thick underbrush weaving through them; making it impossible to know what could be lurking in that shrouded expanse of land. A thousand of those crazy bastards could be wandering around out there and if they caught sight of Markus and the others...

He tried to shake off this sense of foreboding and moved to join Luke, Hector, and Mickey. Brian and Wyatt had both stayed in the Silverado with Evelyn; watching them through the truck's dirty windows with anxious looks on their faces. 

Luke nodded at his arrival and whispered, "Okay, we're going to see what's here for the taking and be on our way again as fast as we can."

"Why?" Mickey asked in a hushed voice, one eyebrow cocked and the Glock 22 .40 caliber pistol Luke had loaned him to replace the Browning in one tattooed hand. "This is stupid. Let's just get the fuck out of here already."

Luke scowled at him and then pointed at the dead soldier lying by the Humvee closest to them, "See that?" They all strained their necks to look past the concrete barriers that had been set up around the Humvees to see an automatic rifle by one of the dead man's hands. "That's an M-16, boy. We could use a couple of those, don't you think?"

Mickey's cheeks flushed crimson and Markus wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't seen the weapon before asking his question or if it was because of the 'boy' thing but he was pleased to see that the younger man held his tongue for the moment. The last thing they needed was that peckerhead going off again right now. He'd probably get the attention of every infected around them for at least a mile.

"Come on," Luke whispered, turning to the checkpoint again.

Markus fell in behind the others as they drew closer to the Humvees and the smashed wooden barricade across the road, watching the treeline for any movement. 

Luke bent to retrieve the M-16 from where it lay on the pavement. He popped out the magazine and grunted in surprise, "Full." He slapped the magazine back in place and slid the strap over his shoulder to let it hang at his side as Hector and Markus began checking the Humvees.

Hector found a few big boxes of MREs and a case of water purification tablets in one vehicle so Markus was expecting to find the same but he was even more pleased with what he'd found. He discovered a black duffel bag of loaded magazines in the back, as well as two more M-16s, and shared his find with the others. Hector took one and he took the other as Mickey went to procure a fourth from another dead soldier he'd spotted on the other side of the Humvee that Hector had searched.

When Mickey stepped around the other side of the blood splattered Humvee, however, he stopped abruptly and called out to the others, "Guys, you might want to come see this."

He was looking down at something, his green eyes wide, and Markus rushed over to see what was the matter. As he came closer he saw that the ground just beyond the road dropped off sharply into a ditch that was hidden by more concrete barriers. He also couldn't help but notice that the smell of corruption was rapidly getting worse, so thick in the air as he approached Mickey that he could taste it on his tongue when he drew breath through his mouth. Reaching Mickey's side, he finally saw what had disturbed the other man enough to call them over.

The ditch, deep and obviously something that had been dug out of the ground fairly recently, was filled with what looked like over a hundred decaying bodies. They were riddled with bullets where the flesh was still whole enough for the holes to be seen and, with slowly mounting horror, he saw what looked like entire families who had been thrown there to lie in a tangle of limbs with their eyes and mouths open. The temperature had been low the last week or so and had slowed the decomposition process somewhat but soon that wouldn't matter. They were well on their way to returning to the earth.

"Oh Jesus," Luke said as he stepped beside them, his hand covering his nose.

So here were the owners of those cars and trucks parked in a neat line on both sides of the road. They hadn't been infected. They hadn't been evacuated. They'd been stopped, murdered, and casually discarded in this open mass grave. 

Apparently Hector had reached this realization at the same time as Markus. "They were pulled over one by one and executed," He said, his voice muffled by his hand as well. "Then they dumped them here and left them to rot."

"I hope the shits that did this got what was coming to them," Mickey said, sounding as if he was barely hanging onto his breakfast. "These were just regular people and they fucking killed them for no reason."

"If they were here to speak for themselves they'd probably say that they were just following orders," Luke told them, his grey eyes never leaving that horrible pile of bodies. "I knew a lot of guys like that during my service."

"A lot of evil has been done in the spirit of 'just following orders'," Markus grumbled. 

The sight of all those rotting people left out here for the animals and the elements made him so angry that he wished one of the soldiers who'd been 'following orders' were here right now. Not so that he could defend his actions or try to justify it somehow but because Markus would happily choke him to death with his own bare hands. There was no excuse acceptable for this. 

"I hope there really is a hell because people who would do this deserve one," he said.

Luke nodded and his voice was tight with suppressed anger when he spoke again, "Yes, they do."

They turned away from the pathetic sight and went back to the Humvees. They checked again and found a set of maps and a few more loaded magazines they'd missed the first time. Unlike their discovery of the food rations and water tablets, the find brought little in the way of celebration. The sight of all those rotting people had sapped any good humor out of them. 

Thankfully, they were soon back on the road and Markus felt a little better when the sight of the Army barricade dwindled in the rearview mirror.

***

As the sun began to descend in the West on that long fruitless day of searching for a new safe haven, they had to stop and fill the tanks with two cans of the gas they'd gotten from the old man at the gas station. With Hector standing guard over Luke as he gassed up the Silverado and Mickey doing the same for him as he filled up the moving truck, Markus looked around at the land surrounding them. Dover Creek and the other small towns they'd passed through were miles behind them but it had been slow going even with the map that assured them they had slowly made their way north and were now somewhere near Wichita Falls. Night was nearly upon them, however, and they were doing no better than they had been before setting out.

Then Markus saw it. A farmhouse on the horizon, it's gabled roof just visible above the trees, sitting there at the end of a long dirt road that he could barely make out in the gathering shadows.

"There's a place over there," he told Luke as they were stowing the empty gas cans in the moving truck once more. Luke looked up and Markus pointed to the roof of the farmhouse he could hardly see anymore and continued, "We could stay there tonight. Rest up and all that."

Luke nodded at this and said, "Maybe. It wouldn't hurt to check it out."

Markus gave him a brief, half-hearted smile and said, "Hey, you never know, right? We could get lucky and find a new place to call home."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)

~Evelyn~

As they came close enough to properly see the farmhouse Markus had spotted, Evelyn felt the hope that had been blossoming in her stamped out in an instant. The house was big and might have been a nice place at one time but now it was old and looked like it had been abandoned for at least a couple of decades or more. 

The windows were all long gone, the front door lay in rotting ribbons of wood on the porch and blackbirds nested in the eaves, cawing harshly at the unwelcome newcomers. Every board she saw was warped and crooked like a carnival funhouse from all the rain and snow that had fallen over the years. Drifts of leaves from the mostly bare trees surrounding the house were piled up in fragrant, rotting bunches around the porch and Evelyn saw something small and furry go scurrying through the piles in an effort to get away from the harsh glow of the headlights; probably a feral cat or a raccoon.

If ever there was a house that looked haunted, this one is it, She thought, frowning at the gaping black windows that stared back at her like idiot eyes.

Luke sat behind the wheel and, from the expression she could see on his face in the rearview mirror, Evelyn was sure that he was thinking almost the exact same thing that she was. 

"Fuck," he whispered, sounding more irritated than frightened. "This is gonna be a rough night."

Evelyn kept one arm around Jack's shoulders, her mouth turned down at the corners as she gazed at the house in front of them, "This is nuts. We can't stay here."

Luke shut off the engine and sighed heavily, "Unless you want to go driving around in the dark where we can't see anything, we have no choice. First we'll check it out and see if there's a room with a door still standing that we can stay in. If not, well, then we'll have to sleep in the back of the moving truck tonight."

Mickey groaned loudly and rubbed a hand over the back of his fuzzy head in a frustrated gesture. "You can't be serious. Evelyn's right, this is fucking unbelievably dumb."

Luke turned to look at Mickey and Evelyn was shocked to see the barely controlled anger on his face. Luke, who was usually so calm and collected, looked like he was doing everything in his power not to pop Mickey right in his mouth. The day must have worn him down a lot more than she'd thought.

"If you don't like the idea you can always start walking," He snapped, his upper lip curling unconsciously as his eyes met Mickey's. "No one's going to stop you."

"Calm down, you guys," Hector tried, caught in the middle seat between them. "Let's not do this now, okay?"

Mickey's face hardened, his eyebrows coming together as his eyes narrowed on Luke's, and she knew that things were about to get ugly.

"Fuck you, old man," Mickey spat at Luke, ignoring Hector completely.

Luke opened his mouth to say something back and Evelyn interrupted him before things could get worse, suddenly so angry at both of them that she was on the verge of screaming. "Would you two just fucking stop? This isn't helping!"

Surprisingly, it worked. Luke sat back and closed his mouth with a snap. Mickey turned away and leaned against the passenger side door, glaring out at the dilapidated farmhouse. Without speaking another word, Luke opened the driver's side door and got out. Hector followed and now Mickey sat alone in the front seat.

Brian looked past Wyatt who occupied the space between them and gave Evelyn a tired half-smile. Then he picked the Remington 12 gauge up off of the floorboard at his feet and got out as well, moving around the back of the truck to join the other men standing maybe ten feet from her window.

After Markus joined the men and was filled in on the situation, Luke opened the door next to Evelyn and asked for the bag by her feet. It contained many things but she knew without asking that he only wanted the extra clips and flashlights. She handed it over without meeting his eyes and he shut the door with a frown on his face that made his cheeks sag, giving him the look of someone a lot older than he actually was.

She waited until Luke was doling out the spare bullets and flashlights and asked Mickey, "Aren't you going with them?"

"No," he said, never taking his eyes off of the sad sight of the farmhouse in front of them as the last bit of light left the sky. "I think I'll sit this one out."

Wyatt was scooting toward the door that Brian had gotten out of and picking up the Mossberg that had been squashed between his knees. 

"Guess I'll go see if they need my help then," he muttered, obviously anxious to get away from the brooding man in the front seat. He got out and joined the others and now it was just her, Mickey and the dog.

Luke opened her door again to hand the bag back to her and shut it only after grumbling, "Don't worry. This will be quick." 

Then they were heading for the warped steps leading up to the sagging front porch; their LED flashlight beams very bright against the inky blackness of an almost moonless night. Evelyn watched their progress until they disappeared inside and the only sound in the truck was Jack's quick breathing next to her.

She glanced behind her to see Virgina sitting in the driver's seat of the moving truck with her daughters next to her. Evelyn raised a hand at them and they each raised one in return as if to say, 'everything's good on this end'. Knowing she couldn't avoid it any longer, she faced forward and peered at Mickey. 

"You shouldn't have said that to Luke," she told him in a gentle tone, her anger also gone for the time being. "He's just trying to protect us."

Mickey snorted, his lips twisted into a sour expression, and still he wouldn't look away from the dilapidated house. 

"Sure he is," he said in a low voice. "But he makes mistakes just like any other person. I don't like the idea of being in that house for a second let alone an entire night. Even if something doesn't try to come eat us in our sleep that goddamned roof is apt to fall down on our heads."

She sighed, feeling bone tired after spending the entire day cramped up in the backseat, wishing that he would stop pouting and that she could get out and stretch her legs soon. 

"I'm not any more thrilled about it than you are, Mickey, but we have to make the best of things," she told him, stifling a yawn. "If he comes back and says it's safe enough to stay the night in then that's exactly what I'm going to do. I trust Luke's judgment."

After a long moment Mickey finally turned to look at her, his green eyes meeting hers, and the deep V between his eyebrows told her that his pouting wouldn't likely stop soon. 

"You put too much faith in him," he said, his green eyes taking on an odd shine in the glow from the dashboard. "You put too much faith in everyone, Evelyn. It's likely to get you killed."

She looked away from him quickly; feeling oddly hurt for some reason she couldn't quite define. She thought she'd just let him brood in silence if that was the way he wanted to be.

Ten minutes later, Luke and the others came back and gave the all clear. There was a room upstairs with a solid mahogany door to put between them and whatever might try to get in during the night and there was plenty of room for everyone. So they all went inside and up the rickety stairs to what had been the master bedroom at one time. 

There were a lot of cobwebs, dirt and drifts of leaves but otherwise the room was empty. Markus had fetched the cot for the little ones to share and the adults drew straws to see who would get the five sleeping bags they'd appropriated from Wyatt's house the day they'd discovered him hiding in his family's barn. Markus, Wyatt, Virginia, Luke and Hector were the lucky ones. Evelyn had resigned herself to wrapping up with a blanket on the floor when Luke came to her and insisted that she take his sleeping bag. She tried to refuse but he wouldn't hear it, saying that he could sleep sitting up against the wall if he had to, and clasped his hands together behind his back when she tried to place it into his hands.

Frustrated with him and yet touched by his concern, she said, "You're as bullheaded a man as I've ever known."

Luke brought his hands up from behind his back and placed them at the sides of his head with his index fingers sticking up, "Moo."

She laughed and shoved against his chest lightly, "Get the hell out of here. I'll use your stupid sleeping bag."

He laughed too and left her to find herself a spot on the floor. She felt bad that some of the others only had blankets to cover up with but she knew the rest of them would be just as stubborn as Luke had been if she offered it to anyone. So she scraped a clean-ish place on the floor with the side of her shoe and laid down for the night. The bright purple sleeping bag kept her nice and toasty as exhaustion overtook her and left her sleeping within moments.

***

Many hours later a nightmare snapped her out of sleep like a dash of cold water and she came awake with an involuntary cry; struggling in the confines of her sleeping bag for a moment until she realized where she was. Sighing, she unzipped it and wriggled free.

It was still dark and there was very little light emanating from a single emergency candle set carefully in the middle of the room on a broken dish. She sat up and saw the others lying around her, some of them softly snoring or muttering as if they were having their own bad dreams to contend with. She saw Mickey sitting with his back against the far wall, his knees up as he spun a 40 caliber bullet on the floor to keep himself awake. It was late then, probably closer to morning than not. Luke almost always took first watch.

She got to her feet and tiptoed over and around the others to get to where Mickey was. She sat beside him and he turned to look at her with a smile that looked half-hearted at best, "Hey."

"Hey," she returned, smiling back a little.

"You have another bad dream?"

"Yeah," she answered with a sigh, her smile gone. "It was..." She trailed off a moment, trying to find the right word. "Intense."

Mickey nodded and said, "I have them too sometimes. Those nightmares that leave you feeling weird after."

"Yeah." Even though the details of the dream had begun to fade soon after she had awakened, she remembered the fear she'd felt. Something had wanted to eat her. She felt certain that it had been just another dream about the infected.

A long moment of silence passed and Evelyn watched the flame of the emergency candle flicker and almost gutter out before springing back up again. Then she felt Mickey graze the side of her knee with one hand as he turned to face her a little. 

"I'm sorry I upset you earlier," he said in a hushed voice so as not to wake the others, his eyes unreadable in the gloom. "I didn't mean it when I said you were going to get yourself killed. That was wrong of me."

She looked away from him for a moment and then met his gaze once more. "It didn't upset me," she said in an equally mellow voice. "I thought that maybe you had a point. I shouldn't expect everyone to look out for me just because I'm - ." But she stopped before she said the word 'pregnant'. She didn't know why but she hadn't told anyone yet. To her knowledge, Luke was the only one who knew about the baby.

Mickey waited for her to finish her thought and then, realizing that she wasn't going to, he said, "I wasn't saying that you don't pull your weight. Shit, you held down the fort when the infected came to the house yesterday. If it weren't for you who knows what could've happened."

She could have reiterated that it was Jack's actions that had saved the day, not hers, but she didn't want to argue the point with him. She just nodded and looked down at her hands, watching the breath steam out of her mouth to cloud around her a moment before dissipating. It was very cold, in the 40s at least, and now that the memory of her nightmare had faded completely she wanted to try and get a couple more hours of shuteye if possible. She was about to turn to him and say so when she felt his hand gently touch her shoulder.

Looking over at him, she suddenly realized how close he was and how warm and heavy the hand on her shoulder was even through a pair of long-johns and two sweatshirts. His eyes were steady on hers and she could feel the warmth of his breath across her face. It brought back some remnant of her nightmare and her stomach began to twist inside of her almost painfully.

"I'll always be there to protect you if I can help it, Evelyn," Mickey said, his voice a degree huskier than before and sending goosebumps running up her arms. "And I'll never complain about watching your back, either. What kind of man would I be to refuse helping you after you saved my life?"

Her throat was very dry as she tried to speak and it came out as more of a croak, "Mickey, I - ."

He interrupted her by squeezing her shoulder and drawing even closer to her. His eyes were only inches away from hers and her stomach twisted inside her harder than before. 

"I love you, Evelyn," he told her, his pupils very wide in the dark room; like black holes that would swallow her alive.

Then he kissed her. His lips pressed against hers as she sat there unable to move; her eyes so wide with shock that it might have been comical under other circumstances.

Suddenly she felt the warm sliminess of his tongue trying to enter her mouth and she came back to herself with a click so strong that it could almost be heard. She jerked her head away, breaking their brief contact, and slapped him at the same time. Her hand made much better contact than their lips had and she felt the blow all the way up to her elbow; the sound of it very loud in the silent room. Thankfully, however, the group sleeping only a few feet away from them never stirred at all.

She pushed away from Mickey and the wall to stand on shaky legs; somehow getting to her feet as hot blood flamed her cheeks a deep cherry red. She was so shocked and angry that she had a hard time finding the right words to express it to him, sputtering nonsense syllables before falling furiously silent. She settled for glowering down at him until he began to rise up to stand as well, his own face tinged brightly with shame.

"Oh, Evelyn, no," he tried, his hands held up as if in supplication. "I didn't mean to - I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have done that."

She wiped at her lips with the back of one hand, removing his saliva with a moue of disgust on her face, and shuddering as she remembered how his tongue had felt. It had been so sudden and unexpected. One moment they were just talking and the next...ugh. Even though Luke had warned her about Mickey before, his out-of-the-blue declaration of love had caught her off guard. This, coupled with the brutish invasion of her personal boundaries, had left her so stunned that the slap had come from her hand almost of it's own accord. 

Finally she managed to find her voice once more, hissing at him, "You're goddamned right you shouldn't have done it. What the fuck, Mickey?"

He took a step forward and she took one back to compensate. He saw this and his shoulders slumped, making him look defeated by this small gesture from her. 

"I'm sorry, Evelyn," he whispered, his voice almost too low to be heard. "But I meant what I said...I do love you."

She held up one hand, "Will you please stop saying that? It's not true. You barely even know me, Mickey."

"It is true," he insisted, making her flinch as if he'd taken a swing at her. "It's been true since the third day that I knew you." He tried a smile that fell instantly flat. "I didn't want to believe it at first either."

Evelyn shook her head rapidly, her eyes not meeting his now and looking at a point on the floor just between his boots. 

"You're...you..." She groaned and turned away, "Drop it, okay? I don't want to talk about this anymore. Now is definitely not the time to get into any of this. All I want to do is go back to sleep."

With that she walked quickly back to her sleeping bag and left him standing there alone. Climbing back in, she was sure to face away from him and only show the messy locks of her hair.

After a time she heard him sit back down and begin spinning his bullet around again and again. She tried to shut him and any thoughts of him out of her mind and fall back asleep but it was no easy task.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Brian POV)

~Brian~

The next morning they ate a light breakfast and hit the road an hour after the sun rose in the sky. Brian noticed that Luke, Evelyn and Mickey were unusually quiet but chalked it up to the uncomfortable night spent sleeping on a dirty floor. He hadn't had any trouble falling asleep, of course, but he had a little bit of pharmaceutical help and that made all the difference in the world.

He was almost out of pills though; there were only five Xanax left in his worn little pill bottle. Even though he'd been rationing them out to only one a day, he'd gobbled through his entire stash in just two weeks. Normally if he needed some he'd just call Trevor or, if things were tight on his end, Brian would get desperate and take the chance of getting ripped off by a few of his lesser known contacts. But Trevor was probably dead or insane and so was Ray and Po' Boy and anyone else he ever knew, most likely. They weren't going to be any help to him ever again. He had to get his shit without the benefit of a middleman from now on.

He'd seen the load of meds Luke had scooped up at the pharmacy the day that they'd found Markus and the others. A lot of it was good stuff; a supply he could stay high on for a long time. He could probably take two or three bottles of whatever and no one would be the wiser. He could do it while everyone was sleeping and -

Brian shook his head a little to dispel the thought. No. Fuck that. He may have done some shit he wasn't proud of but he wasn't going to steal from his friends. That's what addicts did. They lied and cheated and stole and sold their soul just to get high.

Brian was no addict. He liked to get high just as much as anyone else but he had more self control than that. Sure, sometimes it seemed like it was the only thing he truly enjoyed, especially since people had collectively lost their minds and started eating each other, but he sold the stuff more than he used it. Well...most of the time. Sometimes he didn't sell enough to come out ahead and ended up owing, which was bad, but that had only happened a couple of times. Brian could stop if he wanted to. He just didn't want to if he was given any kind of choice in the matter. There was no better feeling than being high on the right stuff.

He started to think about it again and the urge to get high gnawed at him like an invisible rat inside his brain. He couldn't wait until nightfall so he could stop giving a shit about everything for a little while. He could stop obsessing over his dwindling stash of meds and not feel the guilt over entertaining the idea of stealing; not much, just a little, mind you. He could float serenely in a place where nothing scared him and nothing really mattered but the pleasant buzz in his head.

Brian was so deep inside himself thinking about those little white oblong shaped pills that at first he didn't realize the Silverado was coasting to a stop. It was still early, only 10:30 according to the little orange numerals on the dashboard, and they were pulling up on another one of those crisscrossed steel gates. This one was wide open and the big two story house at the end of the dirt lane looked picturesque with a nice new silver Porsche parked up close by the door.

"Look at the windmill," Hector said from his place beside him, pointing with one finger.

It wasn't a windmill. It was a wind turbine but Brian didn't care enough to correct him. It was one of those big ones that would damn near shake a house apart if they goofed and placed it too close. This one was plenty far back, probably at least four football fields in length, but it was massive; completely dwarfing the trees around it.

"The house has power," Evelyn said, speaking for the first time since this morning at breakfast and sounding hopeful for the first time in possibly the entire time that he'd known her.

"Hot damn," Wyatt said, a wide grin on his face. "Now this place looks all right."

Luke grunted in response to their enthusiasm and drove the truck forward at a crawl. Markus followed behind in the moving truck and soon they were pulling up alongside the Porsche parked in the circular driveway. The place practically beamed in the muted sunshine, lights on in every window they could see, and as they came to a stop Brian saw a shadow move across one of the windows closest to the front door.

"There's somebody in there," he told the others, his hands already shaking.

"Fuck," Luke growled. "Get your guns out, people. We don't know how many infected are in there."

But even as the last word left his mouth the front door opened and a man in khakis and a lime green sweater stepped out. A perfectly normal looking man maybe in his early fifties with short, greyish-brown hair combed to one side and a pair of smart little glasses perched on his nose. He turned to them and waved, one hand doing the slow side to side and the other stuffed deep into the left front pocket of his khakis while he grinned at them cheerfully from his porch.

"Let me talk to him," Luke told the others, shoving his 1911 back into the docker's clutch under his left arm. "You guys stay here and keep your guns down where Mr. Smiley can't see them."

Evelyn's eyes were huge blue marbles in her face and her former hopefulness had been replaced by fear, "He looks nice. What are you afraid he's going to do?"

Luke's eyes searched for each of their faces in turn as if making sure they were all still there and when he spoke it was in a low voice that carried no further than the cab of the truck. "I don't know, probably nothing from the looks of him, but it's best to always be cautious. Stay here." 

Then he was opening the door and stepping out, calling out to the man, "Hey, there! Hope we're not disturbing you." Through the cracked windows of the truck they could hear him perfectly.

The man on the porch lowered his hand and beamed at Luke, "Not at all! It's so nice to see some new faces around here." He descended the porch steps quickly to offer his hand to Luke.

Luke seemed surprised at this gesture that had been so commonplace in the old world but he took the man's hand and gave it three quick pumps before releasing it. "Hello," he said, almost sounding natural. "I'm Luke."

"Richard Davis," the man offered, grinning up at Luke who towered over him by at least six inches. He took his left hand out of his pocket to cross his arms over his narrow chest and Luke visibly relaxed as he saw that his other hand was empty. "What brings you folks out here?"

Luke glanced back at the others and then turned to face Richard again, "Well, to be perfectly honest, we've been having a rough couple of days. Lost our place to stay, slept in an abandoned house last night and spent all morning looking for a place that seemed safe enough for all of us. We saw the turbine over there and the lights on in your windows so we thought we'd see if anyone was home."

Richard nodded as Luke spoke, his smile melting into an expression of concern, "I see. Well, you have my sympathies. Before the news cut out we saw some awful things." He shook his head, a frown on his plain face. "How many people do you have in your group?"

"Ten, not including the dog," Luke replied.

"Remarkable," Richard said, gazing out at the people sitting in the vehicles parked in his driveway and then back at Luke again. "But you can set your mind at ease, my friend. You're all welcome to stay if you'd like. It's been so quiet here that you wouldn't know the whole world's gone to hell in a hand basket. Haven't seen any of those poor sick people since I came home that first day."

"Is it just you here?" Luke asked.

Richard nodded and pushed his glasses up on his somewhat snubbed nose, his smile slowly returning. "Yes. Just little ol' me, I'm afraid. But I've got loads of food stashed away; enough for everyone in your group. I heard about the 'riots' over the weekend and figured that I'd better be prepared to sit for a while if things got bad here too. So I visited the nearest Costco as soon as I was able and spent a small chunk of my savings on supplies." He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up with one thin finger again before continuing, "This turbine here is what will get us through, though. It generates enough power to supply a small town and since the grid's likely shut down elsewhere, we've got more than enough juice for all of us. I've got a well that has some of the best tasting water in the county and I set aside plenty of wood for the fireplace so if something were to go wrong we don't have to worry about being cold this winter."

Brian listened to all this and felt a quiet unease inside him. The man was so quick to offer up his home and supplies. He was either of an extremely altruistic sort or so lonely that he'd have offered the same to anyone who drove up that day; anyone who could alleviate his solitary confinement. Even though he did seem to be one of those upstanding citizen types, Brian thought his sudden generosity was probably caused by the latter.

"That's very generous of you, Mr. Davis," Luke said, his thick eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Please, call me Richard," the man said, smiling more broadly than ever. "You don't mind if I call you Luke since I didn't catch your last name?"

"It's Autry," Luke said. "Are you sure you're all right with us staying a while, Mr. - Richard? There's an awful lot of us and that's a big thing to ask if somebody."

"Nonsense," Richard said with a wave of his hand. "Having so many new people to talk to will be an absolute treat."

Luke gave the all clear and everyone got out to introduce themselves. When his turn came to shake their host's hand and identify himself, Brian noticed that the same placid smile was plastered to his face. His eyes were an icy blue and his teeth were very straight and white. His uneasy feeling in the truck had passed and he wondered if maybe Richard Davis might be a little stoned himself. Brian would have to check the medicine cabinets as soon as the opportunity arrived to do so. Maybe this straight-laced Ned Flanders looking motherfucker had some of the good stuff stashed somewhere. Brian smiled wider just at the thought of it.

***

The house was much bigger on the inside than Brian had anticipated. There were five rooms, four and a half bathrooms, an enormous kitchen and equally huge dining room, a mud room, a game room, a library, a study, a huge living room and a den. There was even a pool, drained and covered at this time of year, and a separate working jacuzzi out back. Every room was tastefully decorated and kept immaculately clean. There was original artwork on the walls and a baby grand piano in the living room. It was without a doubt the nicest house Brian had ever been in before and he wondered how the hell anyone ever got enough bread to get such an awesome place.

As soon as he was able, Brian went exploring on his own. He checked four of the medicine cabinets first and found Tramadol and muscle relaxers in the guest bathroom upstairs. He didn't get to check the master bathroom but he would eventually and he was quite sure he'd find something worthwhile there too. He continued his own private tour more out of curiosity than anything else and eventually ended up in the kitchen. It looked like something you'd see on TV or the glossy pictures in one of those home decorating magazines. Glass faced cabinets, marble top counters, stainless steel appliances; fancy shit as far as the eye could see. He noticed a white slatted door in the far corner and headed over to it. He pulled it open and saw with little surprise that it was a pantry bigger than the kitchen they'd had in the house he'd grown up in.

He was marvelling at the cases and cases of food filling every available inch of shelf space, which there was a lot of. There was a deep freezer in one corner and another in the opposite corner. They both were packed to the top with meat of all kinds; so many chickens and hams and sides of beef that Brian wondered how rich this guy was if all this had only cost him a small part of his savings. 

He was closing the lid of the second deep freezer when his eyes happened upon a gleam of metal against the far wall. At first he thought it was just the wire rack of the shelving but he noticed in the gaps between cases of cereal and flour or canned corn and pasta sauce that there was a different metal shape, darker than the shelving and taller than a man. He walked up to the shelf and moved aside a few cases of supplies, setting them on the floor by his feet. His efforts exposed a metal doorknob and a brand new padlock threaded through a hinge hasp welded into the door. 

Brian ducked under the shelf level with his chest and then stretched forward to reach out with one hand and lift the heavy padlock to examine it. He saw that it was the kind that needed a key to open it.

He frowned as he let go of the lock and stared at the metal door before him. Why would he have a door like that in his pantry? Why would it be hidden behind a shelf? What could he possibly have in there that was so important it needed to be locked up so tightly?

With these questions running through his head amidst the constant desire to pop a Xanex, Brian wriggled back out from the shelving and quickly replaced the supplies he'd taken down. It was probably a storage room, he thought, maybe filled with more supplies or old furniture or something equally mundane. It would be much more interesting and a hell of a lot funnier if it was something more out of the ordinary, however, and he began to muse on what could be behind that hidden door. If nothing else it was a nice distraction from his usually worrisome train of thought.

Brian left the ridiculously huge pantry and shut off the light behind him, chuckling a little at the thought of someone like Richard Davis possibly hiding some kind of weird sex dungeon in his house.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Luke POV)

~Luke~

Richard called them to dinner at six that evening. Luke walked into the dining room and found Evelyn and Virginia setting huge dishes of spaghetti around the antique rosewood table. He greeted them and asked, "Where's Richard?"

Virginia jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the kitchen door at her back and said, "Captain Fruitcake's getting garlic bread out of the oven."

Luke raised an eyebrow at her hushed tone and the 'fruitcake' statement and looked over at Evelyn questioningly. She shook her head at him and the message was clear in her eyes, 'Later.'

Richard pushed through the kitchen door just then and prevented any further talk. He had that same slightly doofy smile on his face and sweat from the hot kitchen made his hair limp and showed the bald spot on top he'd tried to comb over with hair that he'd grown out on the side of his head. He was carrying a basket full of that cheap frozen garlic bread Luke loved and his stomach rumbled at once at the sight of it. 

"Hope everyone's hungry," Richard said in his always cheery voice. "We made enough to feed a small army. Thank God for Evelyn and Virginia. I'm usually lost in the kitchen without a lady's help. I guess I got lucky today and ended up with not just one but two ladies to order me around." Then he chuckled and Luke thought something about it sounded a little forced. He sounded like a gameshow host who's sick to death of his job but has to always smile big for the camera.

Luke made himself return the man's smile somewhat and said, "It looks fantastic."

Richard set the basket of bread down in the middle of the table next to the big pot of spaghetti and then the others started pouring in from the door that led to the living room. They all sat down and began to eat and Luke found that the food tasted just as good as it looked. As he was tucking into his second helping, Hector turned to Richard and said, "I was having a look around your library earlier and I noticed a lot of medical textbooks on the shelves."

"Are you a doctor or something?" Brian asked around a mouthful of food. "Probably are, huh? To be this loaded." He gestured around him to indicate the obviously outrageously expensive home Richard owned.

He wiped his mouth with a paper towel and said, "Oh no, not me. My wife was a pediatric surgeon. I inherited a bit of money when my father passed away and I own a chain of successful restaurants in Fort Worth. I haven't ever wanted for money."

Mickey's head came up from careful study of his food and his eyes met their host's, "No shit? What are you, like, a millionaire?"

Richard ate another forkful of spaghetti and nodded, "Something like that, though I guess it hardly matters now."

"Where's your wife?" Brian asked. "You guys get divorced or what?"

Richard's eyes shifted to take in Brian and his smile never really changed but it no longer reached his eyes as much. He looked quickly away again, dismissing Brian, and asked Markus, "So how did you all meet?"

Markus answered his question and Luke noticed that Richard listened closely and nodded along, making all the sympathetic faces one might make to such a tale, but his eyes kept that same hard look. Luke didn't think he was the only one who saw how quickly Richard had changed the subject when asked about his wife but no one said anything more about it. Maybe it was divorce that had torn them apart but if it had been, she had taken his children too.

Luke had seen the bedrooms upstairs, as had most everyone else, and two of the four bedrooms had been decorated for kids or, more specifically, boys. He guessed their ages had been around 15 and the other maybe 9 or 10. One room had held a number of expensive electronics like game systems, a computer and a huge TV, but there had also been a set of beginner's weights. The other room had contained a few toy boxes, more games, and a huge telescope pointed out of the big window beside the bed that had a comforter depicting cartoon characters from some popular children's movie. So he'd either lost his family in the early days of the virus's outbreak or they were away somewhere and he could not reach them.

"Or maybe he's a coward," Luke thought, though not unkindly. "Too afraid to go look for them." 

Any of these scenarios could explain his reluctance to talk about them, he figured. Best not to dwell on the other man's misfortunes.

***

Later that evening as Luke lay on a big cream colored sofa in the den trying hopelessly to sleep for maybe the third hour in a row, he heard a soft whispery sound and instantly opened his eyes. A figure in the shadows moved toward him and Luke sat up, reaching for the 1911 on the coffee table next to him. Then the figure came closer and he saw that it was only Evelyn with Jack at her side. He opened his mouth to speak and she put one finger to her lips and gave a shake of her head. Then she outstretched her hand and beckoned him with one finger to follow her.

Luke pulled the blankets off of his legs and stood. She waited with her back turned as he pulled on his jeans again and then she was heading for the door that lead to the front hall with Jack right on her heels. He followed them past the darkened stairwell and in through the archway leading to the living room. She went into the first door on the right and led them into the gloom of the kitchen. There was a little bit of glow filtering in from the windows just above the sink and dishwasher on the far wall but they could see well enough as she hurried past the fridge on their right and over to the pantry. 

She pulled open the white slatted door and he followed her inside. They were in complete darkness as she closed the door behind them and then she ran into his broad back as she was fumbling for the light switch. She whispered an apology and he stepped forward a little so that she could run her hand along the wall to find the light. Her fingers found the switch and they both flinched as white light shone brilliantly from the fixture above their heads.

"What's this about?" Luke whispered, squinting from the sudden brightness.

Evelyn's face was grim as she pointed at the shelves directly across from them, "Do you see it?"

Luke turned to look and after a second he did see it; a metal door barely visible behind the closely packed shelving. 

"What the fuck?" He said much too loud. 

They both cringed and waited but the house around them remained silent. When no one came barging in to see what was going on in the pantry in the middle of the night, Luke whispered his next words, "That's a door."

She nodded, "Brian told me about it so I came to have a look for myself when I couldn't sleep."

There was a low growling sound and Luke was reaching for his 1911 in the back of his pants before he realized that it was just Jack. He watched as the dog walked forward on stiff legs toward the hidden door with a low, steady growl emanating from his throat. Luke glanced at Evelyn and she nodded as if answering a question he hadn't asked.

"That's not all," she whispered, her grim expression even more firmly set than before. She quickly crossed the room to the shelves and began pulling out cases of supplies. Luke moved forward to help her and soon they had made a gap big enough for him to see the shiny new padlock through the hinge hasp that was welded into the old metal door and it's frame.

Luke opened his mouth to speak and then Evelyn ducked under the shelving and wriggled through until she had nothing but her rear end facing him. He leaned to one side to watch her progress forward and as she raised a hand to knock he wanted to tell her to stop now. He didn't and she knocked three times with her knuckles hard enough to split one of them open.

The sound seemed very loud to Luke and he was about to ask why the hell she'd done that when he heard a faint scream from behind the door. He went cold all over as he recognized the sound as the same one he heard in his dreams every night for the last couple of weeks. Another much shriller voice joined the first; inarticulate, inharmonious and seeming to come from somewhere below them but drawing closer. Jack's growling grew louder as their voices joined together, his hackles raised and his back legs stiff, and his mismatched eyes fixed on the door behind the wire rack shelving.

Evelyn wriggled back out as the screaming swelled to a fever pitch right next to the door. There was a sudden hard thump against the other side and then the sound of several bodies falling down stairs. When she was free of the narrow space she'd made to worm her way in, he took her elbow and pulled her close enough so that he could be heard without raising his voice, "He's got infected in there?!"

Evelyn sucked on her bloody knuckle a moment before giving a nod, "Yeah. I think it must be his family. I saw a picture of them on the mantle above the fireplace. He'd turned it around so he wouldn't have to look at them, I guess."

Luke stared into her eyes for a long time and heard the infected below them begin to quiet down. After running up the stairs and finding nothing but a metal door barring them, he supposed that they'd already given up on finding the source of the noise. "They might be terrifying," he thought. "But they're as dumb as a sack of rocks."

Once the sounds below them faded away to nothing, he let out a huge, shuddering breath, "Goddamn it. I knew there was something going on with him and his constant fucking smiling but I never would have thought..."

"We've got to leave," She said, her hand twisting to clutch at his forearm with surprising strength. "We can't stay here with those things locked up in the same house as us. I don't care if they can't get out. It's too dangerous."

"We can't just leave, Evelyn. We're not likely to find a better place than this." He told her.

She looked at him as if he'd gone mad too. "We can't stay," she reiterated. "You don't know. You haven't talked to him much but Virginia and I have and we both think there's something definitely wrong with him. He talks like he doesn't know what's going on out there sometimes. While we were cooking he was making all the usual small talk and asked Virginia where she grew up. She told him San Antonio and he said something about making a trip there next weekend to see the Alamo again. When Virginia asked him if he didn't think that would be dangerous and he said, 'I don't plan on staying too long. Just enough time to take some pictures and go on the river walk.' Then he started talking about how good the Mexican food was there. It was like he'd forgotten all about the outbreak entirely."

Luke hadn't spoken to Richard much since their first meeting but what little interaction he'd had with the man had left him with a funny feeling as well. He hadn't spoken as though nothing in the world had changed but it was the little things that disturbed him; the way he acted like this was just some friendly visit instead of pure desperation on their part, the forced gameshow host laugh, the weird drugged expression he had on his face when he thought no one was looking at him, his constant cheeriness when someone was. Clearly he was in denial and perhaps sidestepping from reality in his mind a little to keep himself functioning. His family getting sick must've been too much for him to handle so he'd locked them away and tried to pretend that it didn't happen, turning the family portrait away so he wouldn't be reminded of them. Maybe he was waiting for them to die of thirst or starvation and leave them sealed away forever as if they'd never existed. It was creepy as hell but Luke couldn't imagine what it might've done to him if he'd been in the same shoes as the odd little man. People's minds had ways of coping with trauma that weren't always healthy.

"Let me try to talk to him," he told her. "Maybe he just needs a little help to see the truth for what it is."

Evelyn's dark blue eyes searched his face for a moment, her mouth a thin cramped line, and finally whispered, "I don't know if that's a good idea, Luke. Maybe he does need some help, maybe not. All I know is that this guy is a bit unstable and I don't want to push him over the edge. Maybe we should just leave and find another farm."

"We're safer here," Luke said. "If things go wrong and this guy flips out, I promise you we'll handle it, Evelyn."

She shook her head and walked out of the pantry without saying another word. Jack sat on his haunches and looked at Luke for a moment after she'd gone. Then he stood and padded out into the darkened kitchen after her.

Luke replaced the things that Evelyn had moved off of the shelves and left the pantry too, thinking he just needed a good night's sleep after that hard, lumpy floor from the night before. It wasn't much, just a sofa, but his aching back would surely thank him for it if he could manage to relax enough to get some sleep. He hadn't taken anything for the pain all day and he thought maybe he'd pop a couple of Aleve to help things along a little.

As he made his way back to the sofa awaiting him in the den, he thought to himself that he could handle a soft sort like Richard Davis. He would give the man a chance to admit to the situation and make things right. They owed him that much for opening up his home to the group so willingly but he wouldn't have a choice in the matter either way. If he refused to do what needed to be done Luke would do it for him.

***

He found Richard the next morning as thunder rumbled overhead from a storm that had been going off and on since daybreak. He was sitting in the dining room drinking coffee while reading a newspaper from October 5th. He looked up at Luke as he pushed the door open and instantly his smile sprung forth again, showcasing his unnaturally white teeth.

He set his newspaper on the table and lifted his mug, "Just made a pot. Get yourself a cup if you'd like, there's plenty."

Luke came to sit down at the table across from him and said, "Maybe in a little bit. Listen, Richard, there's something we need to talk about." He drew a deep breath and continued, "We found the door in your pantry. We know you have your family in there and we know that they're infected. The question is, what are you planning to do about it?"

Richard set his coffee down with a thump and blinked at him from behind his stylish little glasses. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Luke fixed the man with his steely gaze and said, "Yes, you do."

The older man raised an eyebrow and unflinchingly met Luke's gaze with his own; his smile finally dissolving and that hard look coming into his eyes once more. "I don't see how my family is any of your concern."

Luke felt his jaw tighten and he was surprised to find that he was growing angry with him. He'd meant for this to go much more smoothly. "It is my concern when it puts my life and the other lives around me at risk," Luke said, fighting to keep his voice even.

"Maybe you should leave then," Richard said, unperturbed by Luke's apparent anger. "I didn't ask you people to come here. You just showed up on my doorstep. I didn't have to take you in."

"No, you didn't," Luke agreed, resisting the urge to reach across the table and smack the haughty look off of his face. "But we're here now and I have no intention of going back out there any time soon. You haven't seen what we've seen. You can't possibly have any idea of how bad it is." He leaned forward and lowered his voice as he continued, "You can't make us leave, Richard, but we can make you do the right thing for your family. Do you understand what I'm getting at? I don't give a shit if this is your house and your family, you can't leave them locked up in there like that and act like none of this ever happened. It's not a decent thing to do to people you claim to love."

Richard blinked at him some more, his expression rapidly changing into one of sorrow, and surprised Luke with his next words. 

"You're right. Of course you're right," he said breathlessly, his eyes filling with tears that soon overflowed and ran down his clean shaven cheeks. "They're not going to get any better. I don't know why I haven't done it already. I - I thought about it but then I think of their faces, of how they used to be, and I just can't do it. That's still my Julie and my boys in there even if they don't know that anymore. I love them more than life itself.

"When I came home from checking in on our neighbors the front door was open and I heard screaming so I ran toward the sound and my wife jumped out of the cellar door and tried to bite me. I pushed her away and she fell down the steps all the way to the bottom. I heard my boys then, oh god, my sweet boys were racing up the stairs toward me; screaming and bloody with these crazy looks on their faces and I knew that they'd all been infected." Thunder rumbled outside again and rain hit the window even harder as the winds changed and Richard continued to moan out his sad tale between sobs. "I don't know what happened but I think one of them were infected somehow, maybe by one of the missing Gustafsons for all I know, and chased the others down there. We were planning on using it as a panic room in case those things got in the house, we'd already set aside some supplies down there, so they must've made a run for it when the first one became sick. I guess they weren't fast enough or they couldn't pull the door shut in time and they got infected too. It must've happened not long before I got home because they were still in there. I shut the door before Tyler or Drew got even halfway up the stairs and locked it. Then I pushed the shelf in front of the door and I left them in there to die. I - I don't know how they're still alive. I didn't think the infected were smart enough to eat food or drink water if they were running around eating other people but apparently I was wrong. They're still alive down there and I'm still acting as though it never happened."

Luke's anger had vanished when tears began rolling down Richard's cheeks and he had hurriedly looked away, ashamed at himself for becoming angry with him in the first place. Here, finally, was the real Richard Davis; a broken man who'd been desperately clinging on to his sanity after fate had cruelly taken everything he loved away from him. Now that he was forced to deal with what had happened he was falling apart right in front of him; his words two parts confession and one part letting loose all the thoughts he'd been too scared to confront until now.

"I'm sorry," Luke said once Richard's rush of words had finally ceased. "I know this must be hard for you. You don't have to be the one to pull the trigger. We'll take care of them if you want us to."

"Yes," he sobbed heavily, his words almost unintelligible now. "Please. I can't. I just, I can't stand to see them like this."

Luke stood from his chair and drew his 1911. "You'll have to give me the key to unlock the door," he said, feeling a lump trying to form in his throat. "All I can do is promise you that it'll be quick. They won't feel a thing."

Richard wiped his dripping nose on the sleeve of his shirt, his icy blue eyes full of more pain than Luke could imagine as he said, "Thank you." He pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them at Luke who caught them clumsily in his free hand. "I'm sorry for asking you to do this."

Luke shook his head and said, "No, don't be sorry. We all need a little help sometimes. There's no shame in admitting that."

He left Richard in the dining room then and went to find a few of the others to help him set things right.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Wyatt POV)

~Wyatt~

They were playing Monopoly in the living room and Wyatt was losing. Josie was winning and gloating about it but Wyatt didn't really care. It was just a dumb game and he'd never really liked it anyway. Not because he wasn't any good at it, but because he thought it was utterly boring. He'd rather watch a movie but Josie and Lilly liked Disney movies or musicals while he preferred anything with car chases, explosions and lots of action. So they'd usually compromise and play one of the boardgames they'd brought with them from Mr. Boyd's house. 

He was paying Josie for landing on one of her many properties when he heard an odd noise. He looked up from the fake bills he was placing into Josie's waiting hand and in the direction it had come from, his eyes centering on the door that led to the kitchen. He heard it again. An odd scrape, thump, scra-a-ape, thump. 

Wyatt stood suddenly from where he'd been sitting on the huge leather sectional sofa, his heart beating hard enough for him to hear it in his ears. Perhaps someone was dragging some heavy object along the kitchen floor? Moving a chair or the stainless steel trashcan maybe? Something in Wyatt told him no and suddenly his hands were shaking. Not thinking, only listening to his gut instinct, he moved in front of the coffee table and in front of the girls; putting himself between them and whatever was in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" Josie asked, standing as well. "Wyatt?"

"Shhhh!" He hissed at her. 

There it was again. A long scrape and a hard thump from the kitchen, very close to the swinging door now.

Lilly stood from her spot on the floor and she went to her big sister's side, her amber colored eyes wide in terror. Wyatt heard the odd sound yet again and adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream, causing him to take a step forward even as the door swung inward and a gaunt figure came into the room.

It was a boy about his age and height but much smaller. His time in the cellar had left him terribly emaciated and his eyes and cheeks had sunken in and given his head a decidedly skull-like appearance. His long arms and legs were little more than sticks and he was swimming in his clothes to the point that the ragged tatters of his pants were held up only by his belt. There was fresh blood on his mouth and when he saw Wyatt standing there he gave a weak scream, more blood pouring out over his chin to soak his torn shirt.

The girls behind him screamed together in unison, piercingly high and with eardrum shattering force. As if this had been his cue to act, the skeleton boy lunged forward and Wyatt stuck out his arms to stop him. He did so blindly and yet still managed to catch him by the throat somehow. The boy snapped his bloody teeth at him, growling and leaving Wyatt awash in the stench of his foul breath, and his overgrown fingernails dug into Wyatt's forearms as he struggled against the hand holding him back.

Something inside of Wyatt broke loose as he watched those red teeth gnash together mere inches from him and rage washed over him, leaving him feeling cold and full of more hatred than he thought he'd ever possess. He remembered how his mother and little brother had screamed as they died. How they'd screamed for help and he'd run like a coward and left them. He wouldn't do that again. He wouldn't let what had happened to his family happen again. Not today, not ever again.

He grabbed the skeleton boy by the front of his shirt and, still holding tightly to his scrawny throat as well, lifted him up off of his feet. Screaming loud enough to fill the entire house, louder than the little girls huddled together behind him even, Wyatt slammed the boy down onto the hardwood floor. As the boy struggled to get his breath again Wyatt released him and snatched both sides of his shaggy brown hair. Wyatt began beating the back of his head against the floor as hard as he could, ignoring the fingernails still digging into him or the glancing blows the creature landed on his madly contorted face. He smashed the back of the boy's head against the hard floor again and again, still screaming like an oncoming train, until the sound it made changed from something solid and into a thick, wet smack.

The girls were still screaming as Wyatt finally let go of the boy, the whites of his unseeing eyes now filled in red with blood, and came to a standing position once again. He didn't realize that they were screaming his name until he saw the woman in the filthy pantsuit hobbling toward the girls. Her gait was slow and rather clumsy as she came forward on a broken ankle but her arms were outstretched, the fingers grasping open and closed, as she pressed onward. Growling and snarling in the gutteral, inhuman voice of the infected, she had her eyes fixed only on the girls before her; on the tasty meal standing there stupidly waiting to be devoured. She didn't notice Wyatt at all. 

Josie and Lilly were clutching at each other, still shrieking in fear, and Wyatt started for the woman without thinking. As the ragged woman closed the distance between her and the girls, he wanted to tell at them to run, to get away, anything, but his throat was locked and he could only scream out in combined rage and fear, his mouth unable to shape any words at all. The girls paid no more attention to him than the limping woman did, just standing there with huge eyes watching her come, completely frozen in place. 

Even though he knew on some level that he had to be moving incredibly fast for a boy of his size, he had the same feeling he'd experienced in nightmares. You run and run and no matter how hard you try you can't go fast enough. It was like running through molasses or into the ocean as it surges forward to push you back; his long legs pumped and he launched himself forward with each stride but still he moved in slow motion. Even though he gave it everything he had, he wasn't going to reach them in time.

Josie's paralysis finally broke and she shoved Lilly behind her just as the limping woman reached them, snatching Josie's thick auburn hair in one filthy hand. Josie's hands came up to push her away and hit the woman square in her chest. The woman stumbled, her hand slipping in Josie's hair, and then Josie was turning to run after Lilly. She tripped over her own feet and fell sharply to her right, smacking the big maple wood coffee table head first with a hard thud and then lying still.

Wyatt reached the woman just as she had regained her balance somewhat and he grabbed her matted hair in one hand. He yanked her away from Josie lying motionless on the floor as he heard other footsteps entering the room and then the woman was turning her attention to him, her red mouth growling and snapping just as the skeleton boy's had.

"Wyatt!" Luke shouted from somewhere behind him. "Push the bitch away! I can't get a clean shot!"

Wyatt grunted with effort as he gripped the woman's wildly swinging left arm and flung her away from them with all of his considerable might. She flew backward a few feet and hit the floor hard, sliding a few feet further away on the slick hardwood floor.

She was trying to rise again when two shots rang out. Wyatt saw her jump as a bullet pierced her just under her left armpit and another one hit her in the hip. Blood began to pump out of her wounds and her growling started to diminish into a low gurgling as she died with her eyes staring up at the ceiling far above them.

The others were rushing forward and Wyatt bent to help Josie to her feet only to see that she was knocked out. He rolled her over onto her back and that was when he saw the big bruise forming at her right temple and blood running out of her ear.

Virginia came charging into the room then and she knocked him and the heavy coffee table aside in her rush to reach her fallen daughter. She fell to her knees and cradled her daughter's limp form in her arms. She cried her name in disbelief and sorrow as she looked down on her firstborn.

Wyatt stood from where he'd fallen back on his butt and felt a hand touch his arm. He looked over to see Markus standing there and the rest of the group all standing behind him with shocked looks on their faces. 

His brown eyes level with Wyatt's hazel ones, Markus asked, "What happened?"

Wyatt rubbed shaking hands down his face and took a deep breath before giving them the details he knew in two short sentences. When he said that Josie had fallen and hit her head Virginia wailed; a long shriek he felt in his gut that sent goosebumps running up and down his flesh.

"Josie!" She screamed through sobs, her cries joining those of Lilly's who stood nearby weeping for her sister. "Josie, wake up! Please!"

She lay half on the floor and half on her mother's lap, completely still and unmoving. Other than the patch of skin on her right temple that was just starting to turn a dark, ugly shade of purple, she looked so peaceful that she could've been taking a nap.

Evelyn and Markus both went to Virginia's side to wrap an arm around her and try to offer some comfort as well as have a look at poor Josie. She was breathing but it was shallow and irregular, as if she were struggling to draw air now. Wyatt saw Evelyn and Markus exchange a worried glance and the fear on their faces told him all he needed to know about how Josie was doing.

"That motherfucker."

Wyatt turned to see Luke looking toward the door leading into the kitchen, his face red with fury and his free hand clenching and unclenching in spasms. He went for the door and Wyatt, Brian, Mickey and Hector followed. Wyatt was the only man unarmed out of them but after what he'd just seen he felt like he could take on another dozen of them easily. Luke wasn't the only one full of rage over what had just happened.

They went into the kitchen to find the pantry door wide open. Looking inside they saw the shelf on the far wall pushed aside and the gaping door that lead down into complete blackness. Luke got there first and pulled his almost completely useless phone out of his pocket, switching on the flashlight feature. Bright light sprang forward and revealed a set of stairs leading down into the cellar.

Luke went down first, his 1911 in one hand and his phone held up high in the other to light the way. Brian followed close after him with his Remington held tightly in both hands, then Mickey with his Glock and Hector with his Taurus came after them, Wyatt bringing up the rear.

The first thing he saw when he reached the last step was Richard's corpse splayed out a few feet away, nearly unrecognizable with thick blood covering one half of his face and the other half of it chewed away. There was another much smaller corpse against one wall, a child that must've been Richard's youngest son, and he was slowly decomposing into the bare cement floor. There wasn't much flesh left on him and the startlingly white of his bones were clearly visible. The smell of rot and blood and shit was so thick in the small room that Wyatt gagged and very nearly vomited on the back of Hector's head.

"He had another key," Luke said, his voice hollow. "The fucker had another key and opened the door the minute I left the room."

"Why would he do that?" Brian asked, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

"His guilt over leaving them down here?" Hector offered. "The thought of living the rest of his life never seeing them again? I don't know, grief can do strange things to a man."

"Goddamn it," Luke breathed, putting away the 1911 and looking at the others with wounded eyes. "I took the man at his word. I thought he was going to do the right thing. If I'd have thought even for a moment that he was lying to me or that he would think about opening that door on his own, I never would've let him out of my sight until the deed was done. This is... it's all my fault."

"It could've been much worse," Mickey said, shrugging his shoulders and stuffing his Glock into the back of his pants again. He spared a glance at Wyatt and nodded at him, "If not for this kid it could've been a hell of a lot worse."

Wyatt looked back at all the eyes staring at him and frowned, thinking of the bruise puffing up on Josie's head. If it hadn't been for him moving so slowly she'd be awake and hugging her mother back instead of unconscious on the living room floor.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mickey POV)

~Mickey~

He didn't know her. He didn't really know any of them. 

When the little girl still hadn't woken up by the time the sun began to go down, however, Mickey started to worry that she wasn't going to. As the hours ticked by and the storm finally lessened until it had become only a mild yet continuous drizzle, Josie seemed to be slowly getting worse and worse.

Her breathing hadn't been great since the beginning but in the last two hours or so it had become extremely ragged and irregular; her skinny chest still rising and falling but the pause between breaths becoming longer and longer. Blood continuously leaked out of her ears, just a slow trickle, but clear fluid was coming out of one side of her nose. Later on, as they'd been digging in the rain, he'd overheard Luke whispering to Brian that the clear substance was likely brain fluid. If so, Mickey thought she needed more help than any of them could possibly give her.

All through that long day, whenever Mickey checked in to see if there had been any changes, he saw Virginia's slumped figure sitting on the big bed in the master bedroom beside her eldest child. She held one of her limp hands in both of hers, alternately crying and whispering to her daughter while watching her increasingly arduous struggle for every breath. She no longer resembled the Virginia they'd come to know. Grief had changed her. She looked dishevelled, her curly auburn hair standing up every which way on her head, and her face was a pallid mask where hope and sorrow were at constant war with one another. The skin underneath her eyes looked bruised and her cheeks shone with tears. Her watchful eyes never left her daughter's face for a second; she hardly seemed to blink. As the hours passed and Josie still did not wake, she looked as though she had aged twenty years in the last ten hours.

Lilly sat next to Josie's other side, looking down at the unmoving form of her big sister with wide eyes that were slightly unfocused, as if she were far away somewhere inside her six year old mind; somewhere nothing could reach her. Jack sat on the bed next to her, his head in her lap, looking up at her with those big sad eyes dogs gave when begging for scraps or after they'd shit on the carpet but if she noticed him she gave no sign. She hadn't cried since that morning and for most of the day she'd been deep in shock, not saying a word and never moving from her mother's or her sister's side. She was so still and silent that she could've easily been mistaken for a very realistic mannequin.

Wyatt, Markus and Evelyn held their own silent vigil around the injured girl and her two remaining family members; heads bowed in silence other than the occasional sniffle, while they tried hopelessly to console Virginia in some way with their presence. Hector had been on his knees in the study for at least three solid hours praying in that creepy way of his where his lips moved but made no sound. Normally it bothered him when Hector did that but no doubt he was praying for Josie and Mickey thought that this time it couldn't hurt. He found himself wishing for the first time in a long time that god did exist. They could do nothing but watch, wait and hope because none of them had any real medical training. They knew what had happened but had no way to fix it. Maybe god would get off of his all-powerful ass and notice there was a little girl who needed his help down here. If he existed and gave a shit, anyway.

Mickey, Luke and Brian checked in on them once in a while as they did the dirty work of burying Richard and his family on the far side of the detached garage, but for most of the day they were too preoccupied with the task at hand. He'd noticed both Luke and Brian hadn't spoken much to anyone, least of all to him, and that suited him just fine. He didn't want to talk to either one of them anymore than he absolutely had to. Brian still hadn't forgotten that punch to his nose even after Mickey had apologized but he supposed he couldn't hold it against him. He was just a dumb kid and Mickey had been in the wrong, after all. 

Luke, though...god, he couldn't stand that self-important asshole. Always barking orders at everyone and deciding when they ate or went out to look for supplies or lit a fire. Mickey went along with everything Luke said most of the time, trying to keep the peace as much as possible, but the man just rubbed him the wrong way. It didn't help that the few times he'd caught Luke looking at him since that night at the abandoned farm house he'd worn an expression that made him think Luke still wanted to hit him. He hadn't forgotten, either.

"Probably because I dared challenge his 'authority'," Mickey thought as he shoveled another huge clod of dirt on the vague lump of what had once been the Davis family. "He's such a big ugly, mean-looking fucker that he's probably not used to someone having the balls to stand up to him."

He caught movent out of the corner of his eye and it broke off his train of thought in a hurry. He turned to see Hector walking towards them, his face solemn and his eyes downcast. The fact that he was out here in the cold rain instead of praying made the little bit of hope Mickey had been harboring for the girl disappear completely. The harsh glow from the security light attached to the wall of the garage next to the grave left most of Hector's face in shadow but Mickey was close enough that he could see the tears in his eyes anyway. He knew what the man was going to say before he said it. They all did.

"She's gone," he said.

Brian put one hand to his chest, over his heart and said, "Oh fuck a duck."

Hector's eyes flicked up to look at Brain and he nodded, "Yes. We tried CPR, Markus and Virginia are both certified, but it was no use. We think she fractured her skull when she hit that table and it caused her brain to bleed. If there were any hospitals or doctors left she probably could've been saved. As it is..." He lifted his hands a little in a gesture of helplessness.

"Jesus Christ," Luke muttered, throwing down his shovel and looking down at the mostly filled in grave. "That poor girl."

"Yes," Hector said again, his eyes downcast once more. "We're going to get Josie ready for burial. Virginia... she's not taking it well. We gave her a Valium and she's sleeping now but we need you three to dig another grave for her. That is...if you don't mind."

"Better to be out here in the rain than in there looking at that little girl's body," he thought but didn't say.

Mickey shook his head as if to get rid of the thought and said aloud, "I don't mind. I'll stay out here all night if I have to."

"Yeah," Brian said, his eyes dry but his face drawn with sadness. "Me too."

Luke nodded and wiped at his face with one free hand, whether to wipe away rain or tears Mickey was not certain. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll try anyway."

Hector nodded and thanked them, his eyes never lifting from the grave before them, "Thank you. I think we'll bury her in the morning after Markus, Evelyn and I finish preparing her...body." 

With that he nodded again in their direction and turned around, heading back for the house a football field length away. They watched him go in silence, a somber figure in the rain with slumped shoulders and an unhurried stride. He looked defeated. Mickey supposed that they all did.

"Let's fill this in quick," Luke said to the others. "This is going to be a long night."

And it was. They didn't finish digging the new much smaller grave until around two that morning but the rain had stopped for most of it. He and the other two men left the grave and dragged themselves upstairs. They went to their separate rooms and then Mickey was stripping down to his boxers and wriggling into his sleeping bag on the floor of what had been Tyler Davis's bedroom. It had been his bad luck to get the bag tonight while Hector got the bed but he supposed it was better than nothing. Ten minutes after laying his head down he was snoring deeply and for a little while he knew nothing at all.

***

At noon the next day, October the 26th, they buried Josie in the grave they'd spent all night digging beside an old oak tree. It was a dark and cold day but, thankfully, the rain did not return. As they filed out to the waiting grave, Markus carried the girl's body gently in his big arms, cradling her to his chest like a baby. His brown eyes streamed with tears and once or twice he sobbed heavily before swallowing it and continuing forward.

Evelyn and Hector had spent most of the previous night wrapping her slender body in several layers of fine linen sheets and sewing them together by hand; ending up with a burial shroud that had a pattern of little pink flowers on it. Markus had spent his night crafting a simple wooden cross to mark her grave; carving her name, her date of birth and date of death along with one simple word 'Beloved' into the unpainted wood.

Virginia wept inconsolably in Evelyn's arms as they gently lowered Josie's body into the hole and Wyatt held little Lilly, who also cried, in his arms. Once Josie lay at the bottom they removed the ropes they had used to lower her in and Markus and Brian began to shovel the wet mud onto her remains.

Mickey could hear Virginia's harsh sobbing but she wasn't the only one. Everyone was crying, Mickey included, and he turned to Hector standing next to him and asked, "Could you say something? Just - anything?"

Hector's leaking eyes turned to him and he frowned, "I'm not a priest."

"You're the closest thing we got to one," Mickey sighed, wiping at his eyes with one hand. "Somebody's gotta say something."

Markus grunted in an effort to clear his throat before agreeing, "Please, Hector? She deserves something to send her off right."

Hector looked at Virginia but she was weeping too loudly to hear any of this exchange so he looked to the others and they all nodded at him to go ahead. He nodded back and bowed his head, silent for moment as if searching in his mind for the right words.

"God our Father," Hector recited in a strong, clear voice that carried far in the stillness around them, his hands clasped loosely together at his soft waist and his eyes shut tight. "Your power brings us to birth, Your providence guides our lives, and by Your command we return to dust. Lord, those who die still live in Your presence, their lives change but do not end. I pray in hope for my family and friends, and for all the dead known to You alone. In company with Christ, Who died and now lives, may they rejoice in Your kingdom, where all our tears are wiped away. Unite us together again in one family, to sing Your praise forever. Amen."

The others repeated the Amen, even Virginia, who had quieted some when Hector began to speak. Then it was over and the others filed back to the house while Mickey remained behind with Brian and Markus to help fill in Josie's small grave.

Maybe he didn't really know them, maybe Evelyn had been right about that, but Mickey fervently hoped that they wouldn't have to dig another one any time soon.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)

~Evelyn~

Almost a week had passed since Josie's funeral and it was now October 31st. Halloween always used to be one of Evelyn's favorite holidays before the infection but of course it meant nothing to her now. There were no more kids trick or treating, no house parties, no costume contests. Everyone was dead, crazy, or in hiding. It was just another day in paradise.

She spent the day doing housework to keep herself busy. Laundry, sweeping and mopping, etc. Everyone usually tried to help out tidying up the place but with the fortifications the guys were working on daily it meant that most of the domestic stuff fell to Evelyn and Virginia. The workload had doubled since Virginia spent most of her days in bed now but Evelyn didn't complain. The poor woman had lost her daughter and the last thing she cared about were clean sheets and floors. The only thing that did bug her a little was that Virginia being in bed all day left little Lilly all by her lonesome. Evelyn had tried off and on over the last six days to spend time with the girl but she was so withdrawn and quiet that Evelyn worried she was making the girl uncomfortable. She had been relieved when Markus had begun trying to spend more time with her instead; at least he could get Lilly to speak in full sentences once in a while.

So it was that afternoon as she was in the middle of folding sheets that Mickey surprised her in the laundry room. He came in and shut the door behind him, startling Evelyn out of her thoughts. When she saw him standing there a worried look crossed over her face and she looked away from him hurriedly, already trying to think of a way to avoid this uncomfortable situation.

"Can we talk?" He asked, stepping toward her and further into the laundry room located beneath the stairwell. The space wasn't as tiny as it could've been but the quarters were close enough that she could see a spot on his cheekbone where he'd nicked himself while shaving. His sudden appearance and closeness unnerved her quite a bit; she hadn't expected him to corner her like this. She wasn't ready for this, whatever it was.

Striving to keep a neutral expression on her face, she turned to him, forced herself to meet his eyes, and said, "Sure, Mickey. What's up?"

He took another step forward and she tried not to show how tense she became at that. She wasn't afraid of him exactly but she'd been avoiding him since the night he'd tried to kiss her; avoiding him out of embarrassment on both their ends. She hadn't handled it well last time and the fact that he had her conveniently trapped hadn't escaped her notice. She couldn't escape this conversation and couldn't avoid him any longer. If she tried to leave all he had to do was step slightly to the left and block the door with his body.

"Evelyn, about what happened that night - "

"We really don't need to go into that," she said, looking away from him again. "Water under the bridge."

"No, it's not," he insisted.

She calmly placed the sheet she'd just finished folding on top of a small stack of others and turned to face him. "Mickey, there's no need for this," she said, trying one last time to get out of this. "Let's just forget about it, okay?"

He took another step forward and she looked up to see him staring at her with a deep frown etched into the lines of his face, feeling her heart skip a beat as he drew close enough that she could reach out and touch him.

"I can't forget about it. Not when you run from me every time I come into the same room as you."

"That's not true," she said in a small voice. "I'm not running from you."

But it was true. She would get extremely uncomfortable every time she saw him; especially if she noticed him looking her way or if he got too close like he was right now. Evelyn would make some excuse and leave. Apparently she hadn't been as subtle about it as she'd thought. 

She'd been avoiding him not much different than she had avoided Jason those last few weeks before the infection hit Gaines. She'd never been good at confrontation, it made her sick to her stomach and tremble like a leaf every time she even thought about it. A work friend had once told her that she was the human version of the Cowardly Lion and Evelyn had known even then that she'd been right. She'd always been that way and she didn't know why. In school when the other girls would tease her she'd just cry to herself where they couldn't see and never say a word to them. Content to hide, almost painfully shy; she didn't like to be noticed and certainly never stood up for herself. The only time she'd ever found enough courage to fight back had been on the behalf of other people. She knew she wouldn't have stood up to Jason at all if not for the baby and if he hadn't forced her hand. She would've hid her head in the sand and hoped for it to go away like she'd always done. Like she'd been doing with Mickey for the last week.

"Evelyn, I -" he made a frustrated sound, "Would you please look at me?"

She made herself drag her eyes away from the floor and meet his gaze again.

"Can you tell me why?" He asked. "Is it because I was in prison? Do you think...do you think that I want to hurt you?"

She shook her head, "No, Mickey. I don't think that."

His voice changed then and Evelyn saw a look of anger flash across his face, there and gone so quickly that she would've missed it if she hadn't been looking directly at him. "Is it because of Luke?"

Evelyn's frown cleared in surprise, "What? Luke?"

"It's no secret that he doesn't like me," Mickey said, giving an angry shrug. "Most of the time I don't like that dickhead either. If he's been saying something to you about me - "

She held up her hands and interrupted him for the second time, "Hold on. Luke hasn't said anything bad about you, at least not to me. He told me weeks ago that he thought you liked me but that's it. He doesn't have anything to do with how I feel about this, Mickey."

"Why then?"

She sighed and decided that it really couldn't be avoided any more, "I'm pregnant."

Mickey reacted with no surprise, confusing her with the smile that came to his face. "So? You think I didn't know that already?"

"What? You knew? How could you know?"

"We've been listening to you puke your guts up every morning for almost a month, Evelyn," he told her. "We'd have to be complete idiots not to puzzle that one out."

She shook her head slowly, realizing how willfully blind she'd been, "I thought I was being so discreet about it, too."

Mickey shrugged, "We all kinda figured you would tell us when you were ready."

She looked down at the floor and scraped the tip of her shoe across the linoleum, oddly embarrassed. She'd honestly thought that no one knew but Luke. 

"So you see why this can't happen between us," she told him, getting it out before she lost her nerve and ran again. "I'm going to have a baby and I need to focus on getting ready for that."

He reached out to touch her shoulder and she was suddenly aware again of how small the laundry room was. She was practically backed up against the washing machine as Mickey's big hand settled comfortably on her shoulder, making her guts do a nervous somersault inside of her.

"I can help you," he said, his voice dropping a register as if he were sharing his own secret with her. "You don't have to do this alone."

If this had been a couple of months ago she would've become angry at the implication that she couldn't do it on her own. As things were now, she knew she couldn't do it without help.

"Know a lot about babies, do you?" She asked, looking up at him with one eyebrow cocked. "Did you have kids before you went to prison?"

Mickey frowned down at her again and she felt his hand tighten a little on her shoulder. She got the idea that what she'd said angered him somehow but she hadn't meant it as a slight against him, only that he probably knew as much about babies as she did.

"No," he said in answer to both questions. "But that doesn't mean I won't try."

"I'm sure everyone will try to help," she said, choosing her words carefully and still trying to avoid the topic of his attraction to her. "Virginia knows about babies so I'm hoping she'll show me the ropes a little before the time comes."

"Maybe I don't know as much as she does but she can't protect you and that baby like I can, either," Mickey told her, his eyes intent on hers. "You're going to need someone like me watching out for the two of you."

Now Evelyn frowned, stepping to the side and away from him, his hand thankfully slipping off of her shoulder. "What about everybody else?" She asked. "Do you expect them to just abandon us? Luke already said -"

The look of anger came back to Mickey's face at once at the mention of their unofficial leader and she realized that he was jealous of the older man with the terribly scarred face. She wished suddenly that she hadn't brought him up again.

"Luke!" Mickey said through clenched teeth. "You expect that guy to protect you? He's the reason Josie's dead! If he hadn't left that asshole alone with a key to that goddamned door she'd still be here instead of rotting in a hole in the ground!"

Evelyn felt heat flush her cheeks, "That's not fair! Luke didn't know -"

"You're forgetting that's not the first time he's fucked up," Mickey nearly shouted, his voice overtaking hers and filling the small room. "He left you, Virginia and those kids alone at that house and the infected almost got to you, remember? You almost died because he didn't leave somebody there to watch y'all's backs!"

Evelyn's hands were shaking and she felt tears forming in her eyes, "He's just a man. He's not God! He didn't know any of that was going to happen!"

"What if it's you that dies next time?" Mickey asked, his green eyes burning into hers with the intensity of his jealous anger. "What if it's your baby? You still gonna make excuses for him then?"

"Stop it!" She said, the tears running down her cheeks, her chest aching from the sobs she was fighting to contain within. "Just stop it!"

She tried to push past him but he stopped her, catching her by her elbows and hugging her to him suddenly. She squirmed in his arms a moment but he was too strong. When she realized that he wasn't trying to hurt her she stopped struggling and let him hug her as she cried. He held her and waited until her tears had tapered off some before drawing back so he could look at her.

"I'd never leave you alone like that," Mickey said. "I'd never leave you with just some fifteen year old kid as your backup. I can protect you better than he can, Evelyn. I know I can."

She managed to untangle herself from his embrace and said, "No, you can't."

"I can," he insisted. "I love you. I'd do whatever it takes."

She made herself meet his gaze again and said, "Look, Mickey, I know you were locked up for a long time and I'm the first female you've seen in a good long while but I'm not the only woman left in the world. There are others out there somewhere. Don't let your libido trick you into thinking it's love you feel for me because it's not. It can't be."

He shook his head in rejection of this idea, "You're wrong."

"I don't love you, Mickey," she told him, her voice striking him just as hard as her hand had not so long ago. "I don't love anybody in that way. Not anymore, not ever again."

He slowly released her and stepped back. She could see the hurt plain on his face and felt a twinge of guilt in her heart. She could've said it nicer, she supposed, but it seemed to her that she had tried letting him down easy before and it hadn't worked either. In a way he had brought it on himself but it didn't stop her from feeling bad about it anyway.

Mickey wasn't looking at her now as he muttered, "You might rethink that, in time."

Evelyn shook her head at that and moved around him. He didn't try to stop her this time and she left him standing there scowling down at the floor as she quietly fled the room.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Brian POV)
> 
> Be advised that there is extremely foul, racist language used in this chapter. Please know that this in no way reflects my own thoughts or feelings about anything.

~Brian~

They were inside of the local hardware store in the tiny town of Holliday when Brian first heard the sound of a big truck's engine, startling him out of his guilt-ridden thoughts.

"Hey, you hear that?" He asked.

Luke and Markus both froze in place and when they saw Brian standing there with his head cocked to one side, they followed suit. There it was again, closer this time, the revving of a powerful engine and then the squeal of tires on blacktop.

"Someone's moving out there!" Markus said, dropping his armload of lumber into the basket beside him.

There came the sound of brakes screeching loudly just outside of the store and then the sound of the engine cut off abruptly. They heard doors opening and closing and silence followed it.

Luke took off that way, leaving the basket full of wood without a second glance. Brian and Markus followed him to where Mickey and Hector stood peeking out of the glass door on one side. Even before he joined the others Brian spotted the men near the dirty red Dodge Ram truck parked outside. There were four of them, all white men, all of them looking like 'good old boys' with their deer rifles, big belt buckles and dirty work boots. One man, tall and slim with mirrored cop-style sunglasses and a battered old cowboy hat, carried an M-16 just like Luke, Markus, Hector and Mickey wore strapped to their backs. He had the swaggering walk of a man who was quite full of himself and Brian immediately pegged him as their leader. The man in the cowboy hat was walking around the front of the Silverado, his attention totally focused on the vehicle before him, the lump on one side of his mouth indicating a rather large chunk of chewing tobacco parked inside his cheek.

"Let's go out and say hello," Hector offered in a hopeful whisper.

"Wait," Luke whispered back, holding up one hand and never taking his shrewd grey eyes off of the men now gathering around the Silverado. "Let's see what they do."

The men outside were talking to each other and Brian could hear their voices but not make out the words. There was a burst of short laughter from two of the men and Brian saw the guy with the M-16 shake his head while wearing a thin smile on his face. Then he spit a long stream of tobacco juice out of one side of his mouth and looked toward the front of the hardware store, his smile slowly dissolving away to nothing.

Two of the men were opening the front doors of the truck and doing a quick search inside. Pawing through the glove compartment they found the first aid kit and some bolt cutters and under the driver's seat they found the bag of extra clips and ammo. They took everything out and set it on the hood of the truck, going back to search the backseat as well only to find nothing.

"What the hell are they doing?" Mickey whispered beside him.

"Shhhh!" Brian hissed through his teeth at him.

The man in the cowboy hat turned his head to one side and said something to the other three men. The two men ducked out of the truck and quietly shut the doors. A few more indistinguishable words were said and the men held their weapons at the ready before starting for the front door.

"Fuck it," Luke muttered to himself. Then, to the others, "Stay here. Stay down."

Luke stepped out into the open, plastered a friendly smile on his face, and pushed open the door. 

"Hi!" He called to the men outside as the door began swinging slowly shut behind him. He spoke again but his voice became muffled as the thick glass of the door separated him from the others and Brian couldn't make out what he was saying anymore.

All of the good ol' boys, except their leader, lifted their rifles and pointed them at Luke, making Brian's heart leap up into his throat. There were three big guns trained on Luke and all he could think was that he was about to see his friend blown away. After losing one of theirs so senselessly only a week and a half ago, he couldn't imagine losing Luke as well. Luke was the glue that held their little group together as far as Brian was concerned. 

So he stepped away from his hiding spot behind a rack of novelty items and keychains and out into plain sight. He pushed open the door with one hand and brought the butt of the Remington to rest against his right shoulder as he stepped outside.

"Stop right there!" The man in the cowboy hat commanded, raising his M-16 halfway in alarm. "Put that goddamned thing down!"

"What the fuck, Brian?" Luke growled at him, his hands raised up to shoulder level.

"You tell those guys to lower their rifles!" Brian barked at the leader, ignoring Luke. "They lower theirs and I'll lower mine!"

"Don't be dense. You're outgunned here, boy."

"Wait a minute now," Luke said, his right hand slowly drifting down until it was touching the butt of his own automatic rifle. "Let's calm down and talk about this like gentlemen."

"Tell your boy to lower that shotgun, mister," Cowboy hat guy said. "Or it's about to get real ugly out here."

"He's not my boy," Luke told him. "And, in all fairness, your men took aim first."

He spit out another thick stream of tobacco juice from the side of his mouth, nodded at his men and said, "All right. Go on, then. Lower 'em fellas."

The men standing in a rough skirmish line behind cowboy hat guy did as their leader asked of them and Brian slowly lowered the Remington as well, ready to bring it up again at a moment's notice. They faced each other at about twenty paces, sizing each other up, and what Brian mostly saw were the same kind of dumb country boys that had pervaded Gaines throughout his life. The kind of guys who always drank Texas made beer, loved hunting, fishing, methamphetamines and telling their good old fashioned racist jokes. Being a 'halfbreed' and 'Mescan', Brian had heard and been the butt of many of them. Out of the four of them, the man with the automatic rifle was the only one that looked to be even halfway bright.

"Is it just you two?" The leader asked.

"We're just trying to get some supplies," Luke said, his hand still on the butt of the M-16 he carried.

Cowboy hat guy's mirrored shades flashed in the dull sunlight and he spit again, the stream of brown nearly landing on one of his scuffed work boots. 

"You didn't answer my question," he said. "How many are you?"

"You taking a census?" Brian asked. "You want our phone numbers, too?"

The leader frowned and looked to one of the men standing behind him on the left. "Oh look, Eddie, another comedian," he said. "You two should get together and start a club."

Eddie, a short blonde guy only a few years older than Brian wearing a sleeveless Motörhead T-shirt and dirty blue jeans, chortled loudly and put a dirty finger against one nostril, blowing out a large amount of snot from the open side of his nose with a practiced honk.

Cowboy hat guy turned his attention back to Luke and Brian, "Fine. Don't tell me. But do me a favor, would ya? Tell your buddies inside to come on out and say howdy, huh? There's no need to be shy. We're all friends here."

Luke frowned and looked at Brian, giving him a slight nod. Brian stepped back and reached for the door, pulling it open and leaning back to say, "Come out, guys."

Brian stepped away from the door and Hector came out first, followed by Mickey and then Markus. When the men from the Dodge saw Markus for the first time Brian noticed their surprised reactions and felt a warning stirring in his gut. He decided that this could still get pretty ugly despite the lowered weapons. All it would take would be one spark to ignite a potentially deadly shitstorm.

"Whoo-ee," said a balding fat man on the far right in a faded Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt. "That's a big fella right there."

"You ain't so small yourself, are you, big boy?" Markus asked, a humorless grin on his face.

The fat man's cheeks flushed with color and he grinned back nervously, gripping the 30.06 in his hands a little more tightly. The one the leader called Eddie chortled laughter again and then a tense silence descended on the parking lot.

Finally, after a few endless moments, the leader of the redneck militia said, "This all of ya?"

"There are more of us," Luke said, looking at him with unreadable eyes.

"You got any women in yer group?" Asked a bearded man in a blue and white trucker hat wearing a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his hairy forearms. 

"Yes, a few," Luke said warily.

Eddie grabbed at the slight bulge in the crotch of his jeans and gave an exaggerated yank, "They good lookin'?" Then he laughed again. Real fucking chucklehead, this one.

Brian looked over at Luke and saw that his mouth was now a thin line of anger, his lips having disappeared almost completely. That stir of unease in his belly deepening into something near real fright.

"Damn you! Shut the fuck up, Eddie!" the leader snapped, whirling on him and giving him a hard slap on one side of his head.

"Ow!" He cried, clapping a hand to his reddening ear. "Jesus, Dale! I was only kiddin'!"

"Have some goddamned manners, boy!" He shouted back, the veins in his neck standing out clearly as he towered over the smaller man threateningly. 

Eddie's smile had vanished from his face as if it had never been there and he rubbed at his throbbing ear while looking down at his dirty boots, mumbling an apology before falling silent.

"I'm sorry for Eddie's rude behavior," Dale said, his mirrored shades flashing again as he turned back to face Brian and the others. "He's a decent kid most of the time but his mouth will make ya wanna choke him to death once in a while."

"No harm, no foul," Luke said in a surprisingly even voice. "What are you guys doing out here? Looking for supplies?"

Dale spit again and said, "Yeah, we're always looking for more food. The grocery store was picked clean weeks ago." He placed his hands on his hips and gave them a smile, "Mostly we're out here providing a public service, us being the good Samaritans we are and all."

"What service would that be?" Hector asked.

Dale raised his hands and gestured all around him with a broad sweeping of his muscled arms, "Why, we're keeping the fine streets of Holliday clean, can't ya tell? How many of them biters have y'all seen since ya showed up? One? Maybe two?"

"Much less of them than we had anticipated," Luke allowed, shrugging. "Just the four of you did all that?"

"Well, a lot of the more mobile ones had moved on a few weeks ago," Dale admitted with a humble nod. "But we got all the stragglers and the new ones who show up from time to time. Come out this way at least once a week to make sure it's still mostly clear."

"You guys must stay close by then," Luke said. "Big group?"

Dale's smile widened, "I guess yer the one takin' a census now?"

Luke smiled back but it was awkward and rang a little false, "Just curious. No harm intended."

Dale chuckled a little, shook his head and said, "Nah, it's just us. We been stayin' in some rich asshole's summer home on Winding Road maybe 15 miles from here. Pretty sweet place, though. Got generators and everything."

"Your setup sounds pretty similar to ours," Mickey said, speaking for the first time. "Hard to believe that's how some people used to live before all this."

"Yeah," Dale agreed, spitting again and wiping a bit of the dribble away with the back of one hand. "Guess it's good for us they're all dead or crazy, though. Means we can sit out the end times practically shittin' in high cotton."

Eddie, apparently already over the cuff to his ear, gave his piggy laughter once more and said, "Yeah. High cotton."

Dale frowned in distaste again and said nothing.

"Well, it's been nice chatting with you," Luke said, seeing an opportunity to draw this odd little meeting to a close. "But we have to finish up and get back. If we don't hurry up the others in our group will get worried and might take it into their heads to start looking for us."

"Hold on a minute," Dale said, stepping forward and away from his people, his smile appearing again but not quite as broadly as before. "I was thinkin' we might get together, you know, pool our resources? You fellas don't seem to be goin' hungry."

Luke rubbed at the unmarked side of his face with one hand, his thick fingers now skimming over three weeks of growth. The other side was sparsely covered with his scraggly salt and pepper hair, the scar tissue on the right side taking up most of his cheek. 

"We have ammo, lots of it, back at our place," Dale told him, that big phony huckster's smile still curving his mouth, revealing a gap in his top set of teeth where one was missing. "Maybe we could do a little trade?"

"I don't know," Luke said, sounding as if he were considering it when Brian knew he was doing anything but that. They didn't need ammunition. They'd hit a gun store in Thornberry only three days ago.

Dale's smile began to falter a little at Luke's reluctance, "Hey, now, don't be like that. Look, we got off on the wrong foot earlier but I was hopin' we could move past that and work together. Maybe even join forces. Strength in numbers, right?"

"I'd need to speak with the others first," Luke told him. "We've never taken so many people into our group at once before and that's not a decision I can just make on my own."

"All right," Dale said, giving a stiff shrug. "Give us your address and we'll stop by tomorrow. Have a talk with all of y'all at once."

Luke made a sound that said he didn't like that idea so much, "Why don't we get your address instead? I can come by after I've talked with everyone and let you know what they said. Sound fair?"

Dale's smile was gone now, his mouth set in a grim line, "Sounds to me like you'll just mosey on down the road and leave us hangin'."

"We don't have to work out shit with you guys," Markus said, sounding incredulous. "What's stopping you from scavenging just the same as us?"

Dale turned to regard Markus and Brian saw that the veins in his neck were standing out once more as his hands gripped his M-16, "I don't believe I was talking to you, nigger."

Markus's face was a terrible thing to see then. The anger fell over him all at once, deeply creasing his brow and skinning his lips back from his teeth. 

"The fuck you call me, hillbilly?!"

Brian felt as though his heart stopped mid-beat in his chest. This was it. The powderkeg was about to explode.

Markus closed the distance between him and Dale incredibly fast, shoving Mickey out of his way and nearly knocking him down in his rush forward. Dale's mouth dropped open in surprise and he was just beginning to raise his rifle when the first shot rang out behind him. A bullet ricocheted off of the metal door frame to the left of Brian's head and he aimed at Eddie who was holding his Winchester Model 70 in Brian's direction. He pulled the trigger and the shotgun bucked in Brian's hands, the sound very loud in the stillness of the afternoon.

Eddie screamed in pain as the buckshot penetrated him from his knees up to his skinny thighs and he dropped his rifle as he fell backward. More shots rang out and the fat man went down with three holes in his chest just as he was looking down the barrel of his 30.06 and taking aim at Luke.

Another rifle shot and then Brian heard Mickey cry out in pain. He looked over to see him clap one hand to his face, blood already pouring from between his shaking fingers. Hector plugged the man with the beard in the guts twice and he went down howling in agony, the Mossberg .308 he'd just shot Mickey with dropping from his hands as he clutched at his ruined belly.

Brian went to Mickey as Markus continued to beat Dale senseless, cursing all the while. Luke and Hector moved forward to silence Eddie and the bearded man. The bearded man continued to howl and roll back and forth on the ground and Hector took aim and shot him right between the eyes, ending his suffering instantly.

Eddie saw Luke drawing near and raised his bloody hands up, crying and begging, "No! No, please! Please, man! No!! No!!! PLEASE, N-"

The 1911 in Luke's hand fired one shot, interrupting his useless cries for mercy, and Eddie's brains painted the parking lot behind him as he fell.

Brian put an arm around Mickey's shoulders and helped him to his feet. Mickey's eyes were shut tight in pain and involuntary tears rolled down his stubbled cheeks, cutting clean tracks through the dirt and sweat there.

"Oh man," Brian said, "Oh fuck." The blood pouring from between Mickey's fingers seemed to be an obscene amount and he wondered in a distracted way how the hell Mickey was still standing.

"Bastard shot me," Mickey moaned, leaning against Brian's skinny frame for support.

Hector came back to them and helped Brian support Mickey's weight, gripping him around the middle with one strong arm. "Dios mío! Mickey, are you all right?" He asked.

"I don't know," He said, opening his eyes a little to look at him. "Do I look like I'm all right? I got fucking shot."

Hector cursed in Spanish and crossed himself all in one move, something that might have struck Brian as funny in a less serious situation.

Luke came to them then, holstering his weapon once more. "Let me see," he said to Mickey. "I wanna know how bad it is."

Mickey cried out in pain as he moved his hand away from the wound and tilted his head to the right so the wounded left side of his face was clearly visible. "How bad is it?"

There was a two inch long wound beside the corner of his mouth, bleeding freely down the side of his face and onto the collar of his jacket. The bullet had penetrated the top layers of skin and exposed the slightly fatty tissue underneath but it didn't seem like it had gone deep enough to damage any muscles or tendons.

"Grazed you," Luke said. "Goddamn, son. You're lucky that wasn't two more inches to the right." 

"Yeah," Mickey said, grimacing in pain as he brought his hand back to his cheek again. "Lucky me."

Brian looked over to where he had last seen Markus beating the shit out of that shithead Dale and saw the big man taking the M-16 off of the smaller guy's prone body. Dale's face was covered with blood and he was as still as a stone, probably dead or close enough to it that it didn't matter either way. Markus gave him a slight kick, watched him for movement a minute, and walked away when Dale stayed put.

As he helped Mickey past the dead bodies and over to the first aid kit the men from the Dodge had left on the hood of the Silverado, Brian gave Markus a tentative smile as he walked over to join them.

Brian helped Mickey sit in the passenger seat and Luke tended to his wound while he and the others stripped the dead men of their guns and ammo as well as anything else useful they could find. Hector even pulled the boots off of the bearded man after seeing the they wore the same size.

Brian didn't feel bad one bit about what they'd done. It had been a situation of 'us against them' and as soon as Eddie had fired that first shot the only way it could've gone was bad. Hell, as soon as that moron in the shades had dropped the n-word and caused Markus to charge him it was all over. There was no way they could all get out of it unscathed.

He took the keys out of dead Dale's front pocket and went to the Dodge they'd pulled up in. After opening it and searching for only a moment, Brian's prayers were answered in the form of a camo backpack. There were bullets for the rifles, six extra clips for Dale's M-16, a few power bars, a couple of bottles of water, a fifth of whiskey and then, at the very bottom, a small red zippered case that looked like a girl's makeup bag. 

Opening the case he found a gallon baggie half full of big shamrock-green nuggets of weed (good stuff too, from the pungent smell), some rolling papers, another big baggie containing a scattering of cloudy looking rocks that he assumed must be crystal meth, a few pipes he'd heard referred to before as glass dicks that had obviously been used recently, and three pill bottles; one a script for Oxycontin, one for Oxycodone and another for Xanex, all of them mostly full.

Silently thanking God with tears in his eyes, he quickly stuffed the pill bottles into the pockets of his baggy jeans; their bulge unnoticeable amidst the shotgun shells in there. Markus came upon him then and whistled through his teeth when he caught sight of the red case.

"Shit," he said, reaching past Brian's skinny shoulder to pick up the baggie full of weed. He held it to his nose and sniffed through the bag. "That's strong, too."

Brian lifted an eyebrow and smiled, "You smoke?"

Markus laughed, a deep throaty sound that boomed in Brian's ears, the first real laugh anybody had heard out of him since Josie's unfortunate accident. 

"What do you think?" Markus asked him, lightly punching Brian's bicep with his bloody knuckles. "I grew up in the hood, kid. We all smoked weed at some point in our lives. Me, I imbibe now and then, I'm not gonna lie."

Brian laughed too. "Hey, it's finally legal here, right? No more sitting by while all the other states get to have their cake and eat it too."

"Damn right," Markus said, awfully cheerful for a man who had just beaten another man to death only minutes ago.

Brian supposed it was the new normal now; murder one minute, joking around the next. Death was everywhere and sometimes you just had to keep moving because there was nothing else to do. Nothing to do but try to live to see another day.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Luke POV)

~Luke~

The next day, November 8th, Luke took Markus, Hector and Brian with him to find the house on Winding Road that Dale had mentioned. They'd said they didn't have much food but the ammo they'd claimed to have would come in handy...if they had been telling the truth. Luke thought it was best to stockpile as much of everything as they could in case they needed it. Dale and his friends certainly didn't. Not anymore.

So they hit a few homes while searching on Winding Road, killing a few of the occupants still spry enough to pose a threat, and gathered all the things they could during the search. They found a few decent stashes of food and water so the trip didn't feel like a total waste even though there were many houses on Winding Road and the dead men might have occupied any of them. One of the highlights of the day had come during their search of an empty house where Markus found a little girl's cache of dolls and a big dollhouse as well as a number of other kid things like crayons and coloring books. Markus had been grinning from ear to ear when talking about how pleased Lilly would be with it all. It had put everyone in a good mood for a little while. Even better when they'd also found quite a lot of clothes that would fit their remaining female group members; something that they had sorely been lacking and was certain to be appreciated.

But they didn't find the house that Dale had mentioned until they were getting ready to quit for the day. He had expected something like their place but instead it was a fairly modern split level ranch house with blue siding. He supposed that to Dale and his friends it must've seemed like a fancy place but really it was quite modest.

The evidence that the four dead men had been there was blatantly obvious. There were huge criss-crossing tire tracks on the verdant lawn even though the driveway was empty and the words "Fuck off" written in red spray paint on the door of the attached garage. There were a few boards thrown up over the windows on the lowest level but they seemed like it had been done as an afterthought, the sloppy X over each window looked like it could easy be pulled down with a rough tug or two. The last thing he spotted surprised him, a fresh grave next to the house with the shovel still lying on the ground next to the dark soil. At least the dumb bastards had had the decency to bury the dead owners.

Luke pulled up into the driveway and they all got out with their guns ready. Going up to the front door he saw that it was shut and when he tried the knob it was locked. Taking the Dodge's keys out of his pocket he picked through them and found a house key. He tried it and it didn't work so he tried another one and this time the deadbolt slid back with a clacking noise.

Luke breathed a sigh of relief. Dale had been telling the truth, then; it had only been the four of them. If the door had been locked and Dale's key ring had not included the key to open it, he would've been worried. They might've happened upon who knows how many angry methed-out country boys full of questions about their missing friends.

Going inside he immediately smelled the sour smell of men who'd been living together for awhile and did so in a slovenly manner; the stale fermented smell of old beer, the reek of someone's filthy shoes, a mass of unwashed dishes that still had spoiled food stuck to it. It was a smell that got into your clothes after awhile, a smell that (like the monkey house at the zoo) you somehow stopped noticing after a couple of hours.

They went through the living room, finding a long glass-topped coffee table with empty beer and liquor bottles and overflowing ashtrays littering it's a surface in front of a long white sectional couch with what looked like a thousand stains in it's alabaster fibers. Luke saw several holes burned into the couch from cigarettes that had been carelessly dropped.

Markus moved over by the big flat screen TV standing on a filthy glass display stand and picked up a DVD off of the haphazardly stacked mountain of cases sitting to one side.

"Backdoor Whores Volume 5," he read, inspecting the case with a smirk on his face. "Oh, now that's classy stuff."

Brian snickered and Markus set the DVD back down and looked away from the pile of movies with a shake of his head.

They moved through the living room and into the kitchen. It had probably once been nice place; a frilly yellow curtain hung over the sink, a few nice floral paintings adorned the walls near the breakfast nook and there was a little rug with a pattern of daises in front of the sink. Now it was a wreck. A mountain of dishes sat in the sink and there were two bags full of garbage carelessly thrown in one corner, several beer bottles smashed on the floor by the back door, and it looked like they been using the wooden cabinet fronts as targets for throwing knives. It was kind of sad, really. This had been someone's home once, most likely those people buried right outside, and here was there place, completely trashed. Why? Probably just because they could.

Luke sighed in disgust and focused on the task at hand again. He spotted a little door next to the refrigerator and pulled it open to find a pantry. The amount of food he found within told him that Dale had also been telling the truth about not having much. There were ten cases of beer and a mostly full case of Slim Jim's, a few bags of off-brand chips and pretzels. A jar of pickles, a jar of mustard, a bag of flour and a bag of rice, a few tins of sardines, a box of crackers with half a sleeve left in it and a bag of rolled oats. Everything else was dry cereal or beans. In the refrigerator he found only spoiled food that no one had bothered to clean out. The putrid smell of it almost made him sick.

They loaded up the contents of the pantry into the back of the Dodge, even the beer. None of it would help out much but they couldn't afford to be picky. While Markus and Hector did that, he took Brian through the rest of the house and continued their search.

They didn't find anything in the two bedrooms downstairs but when they searched the master bedroom they found a big leather suitcase full of ammunition as well as a couple of handguns. They also found another suitcase full of different drugs and he saw Brian smiling at the huge five gallon baggies filled with marijuana.

"I don't want you smoking any more of that shit when you're supposed to be on watch," Luke told him, his voice stern. "I saw the roaches you and Markus left on the window sill this morning."

"Sorry about that," Brian said, giving a shrug as he opened a bag of weed and took a good long sniff. "But, damn, those hicks must've hit up every dealer's place they knew after the infection began. There's like six different kinds here."

"Maybe they were dealers themselves," Luke said, not really caring one way or the other.

Brian began digging further into the second suitcase, pulling out the weed and setting it aside. He found pill bottles and began reading the labels, his face suddenly serious.

"Anything good there?" Luke asked, meaning 'Anything we can use?'

Brian looked up suddenly, a startled, guilty expression on his face. Then he seemed to relax a bit and said, "Oh, yeah. There's a few pain killers and some mood stabilizing stuff." He lifted a bottle with the label stripped off and squinted at it's contents. "You know what? I think this might be acid."

Luke grunted and lifted the suitcase full of ammo under one arm. "I mean, we could get some bongo drums and have ourselves a party but it's not really useful for anything else, is it?" Luke asked. "Take anything worth taking and leave the rest of that garbage behind. The last thing we need is for anyone to take a spiritual journey in the midst of the Armageddon."

Brian nodded and dropped the blank pill bottle back into the suitcase, "Yeah, that would be bad."

They finished checking the upstairs and found a few more necessities to add to their haul but mostly it was a bunch of junk. Though they did take a few of the DVD's that weren't of the 'Naughty Milfs' variety. These days a little entertainment went a long way. 

As they finished loading everything into the truck Luke took a last look around at the sorry state Dale and his friends had left the house in and thought to himself that it was surprising that the bunch of morons lived as long as they had.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (New character POV)

~Dale~

He didn't know how long he'd been out but when he came to it was dark, he was freezing cold, and something was pulling insistently on his leg. His head throbbed in big pulsing blazes of red as he lifted it from the ground and he groaned loudly from the effort it took to do even that much.

An answering growl rose to meet his cry and Dale struggled to his feet and backed away suddenly despite the pain; the tugging at his leg feeling very much like a pair of hands that didn't want to let go of him. Not that he could tell right away one way or the other; his right eye was swollen completely shut and his left wasn't much better. It opened only a crack and his vision was extremely blurry, rendering him almost blind as his breath puffed out white in the darkness surrounding him.

Trying to force his one good eye open even further, he looked down and saw the vague shape of someone lying stretched out on the ground only feet from him. It's pale, scrawny arms reaching out for him; it's mouth gaping in a black 'o' as another rasping growl issued forth. Looking even further down, he saw his legs and the wet spots here and there down the dirty fabric of his jeans. The fucker had been trying to bite him but hadn't been able to get through the stiff material protecting his vulnerable flesh. The pressure of the biter's teeth had probably been what woke him up.

Dale felt his hands clench into fists and he advanced on the blurry figure dragging itself slowly toward him, no more than an amorphous blob that could've been either male or female. He didn't really care either way, though. The fury boiling up in his guts made him care about very little aside from swift revenge on the thing that had been trying to eat him.

"Ya wanna bite me, ya sorry cocksucker?" Dale said, the beat of pain in his head intensifying with the effort of his words. "Bite on this!"

He kicked out at the figure on the ground with one steel-toed boot and heard the raspy noise of it's growl stutter before growing stronger. The white starfish shape of it's hands swiped at him more vigorously now and he kicked again, catching the body in front of him in the throat. The creature on the ground began to gurgle and Dale kicked it again. Then again.

The noises had stopped issuing from it's mouth and it lay facedown on the pavement but he didn't let that or the increasing pain in his swollen head slow him down one iota. He began to stomp down furiously on the back of it's head again and again. Even though it made his head hurt worse than ever, he didn't stop until he saw the red spill of it's brains on the ground beneath his boots.

"There," he said, panting and swaying dangerously on his feet. "Fixed your fuckin' wagon, didn't I?"

He laughed suddenly and another red wave of pain flashed in his head. He groaned again and lifted his hands to both sides of his aching head, reeling and very nearly falling over. After an unknowable amount of time, the pain finally seemed to lessen a bit and he opened his eyes to once more peer out at the dim world around him.

Both trucks, his Dodge and the blue Silverado that coon and his friends had been driving, were gone. So was his M-16. Even his shades were missing. He spied the crumpled shape of his cowboy hat off to the side and walked carefully over to it, dipping down with on hand to retrieve it. He waited again as another bolt of pain tore through his head as he stood again and then he fixed his hat as best he could, attempting to more or less reform it's crushed shape into something resembling a hat again. He set it back on his head, ignoring the tightness he felt that hadn't been there before. Truth was, he felt naked without it. He felt a little better once his hat was back in it's proper place until he saw the blurry lumps strewn about in a line behind him. It was all that was left of his friends.

What a pitiful sight they made. All three of them dead and shot full of holes. Poor Russell was even missing his boots; one hairy big toe poking through a hole in his crusty sock. Dale looked to the front of the hardware store and didn't see any bodies lying there. So not only had they been shot down but they hadn't even managed to do any damage to the men who'd done it to them. 

It wasn't surprising, really. They hadn't had a functioning brain cell between the three of them and not one of them could shoot for shit. Still, what a waste. He'd known Russell since middle school.

The Dodge and the Silverado were both gone and he groaned in frustration. He was unarmed, without transportation and 15 miles from what had been serving as home for the last month or so. His prospects of living too much longer looked mighty grim indeed.

He heard another snarl off to his left but he couldn't see who had issued it. The dark around him was bad enough but he was one eye short; something could easily pounce on him in any direction. The biter sounded far enough away that he thought he'd be all right as long as it wasn't also a runner. In the shape he was in, if one got a hold of him he'd be done for.

Trying to scan his surroundings with his severely limited vision, Dale walked off to his right, in the opposite direction of the snarls slowly drawing closer to him. He went down the street a ways and happened upon a car parked on the shoulder that looked as if it were mostly undamaged. It was a silver four door sedan, he couldn't tell the make or model, but that didn't matter because the driver's side door was opening under the pull of his hand. He dropped inside with a sigh. The throbbing in his badly beaten head had intensified greatly with the exertion of his short walk and his every movement was another small agony. After groaning and pulling the driver's side door shut, he looked to his left and saw a lady's purse sitting in the passenger seat next to him.

Thinking there was no way he could ever be so lucky, he unzipped it and emptied the contents onto the worn seat. He rummaged through the Kleenex and tubes of lip balm and miraculously found a set of car keys.

Telling himself that something else would go wrong now, out of gas or that these were the wrong keys after all, he stuck the key in the ignition. When he turned it the car started right up. He peered at the dials on the dashboard and saw that it was reading three quarters of a tank.

Dale chuckled thickly and then winced at the spike of pain it drove into his head. He leaned against the steering wheel for a moment until the throbbing seemed to subside a little and then he shifted into drive and pulled out into the street.

As he turned on the headlights he saw the shape of the biter who'd been following him seem to spring forward out of the darkness. Not that it actually did, it was hobbling along like a sailor with a peg leg on it's badly damaged right side. No wonder he'd been able to outdistance wretched thing. Dale accelerated and the engine responded, smoothly surging forward to bump the hobbler aside and knock it down. 

He heard a crunch beneath him as he ran over some part of his already mangled persuer and he muttered, "Get outta the road, dipshit." 

Soon he was headed back home.

***

The door was open when he got there and he knew already that the pug-ugly fuck and his friends had already been there. This was confirmed when he saw the contents of the pantry and then the contents of the master bedroom. They'd taken everything.

Or had they?

He found the crystal sitting on the bed and a couple of pipes as well as a few pills bottles. So they'd gotten most of the dope but left what they couldn't use. When he checked his hiding spot under the bed, Dale was relieved to find the bottle of Jack Daniels he'd squirreled away.

He spun the cap off with the side of his hand and drank deeply, the fire instantly coating his throat and filling his belly. After a long pull that left him feeling breathless, he sat down heavily on the bed. He took another long swig of the aged Tennessee whiskey and it went down much smoother this time, caressing his guts rather than suicide bombing them. After two or three more pulls on the bottle, he replaced the cap and fell back on the bed.

The room was spinning now and his head still throbbed but the liquor was already doing it's job, numbing the pain more and more by the second. Only moments away from passing out again and feeling more than a little drunk, Dale's thoughts returned to the men they'd failed to get the jump on. How sweet it would've been if everything had worked out in their favor. Too bad the guys with him hadn't been a little quicker on the draw, they could've taken those city boys for everything they'd had. Too bad his friends had been utterly useless in the end.

But Dale Harvey Abbott wasn't useless. Dale Harvey Abbott was a force to be fucking reckoned with and if he found that black boy and his friends he'd make them pay for what they'd done to Russell, Eddie and Fat Rick. They hadn't been the sharpest tools in the shed by any means but they'd been with him since the start of it all. They had been his friends and they hadn't deserved being shot down like wild dogs.

Mere seconds before he blacked out again, Dale vowed to himself that somehow he'd make them all answer for what they'd done. Drunk or sober, it was a vow he intended to keep.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)

~Evelyn~

It was the early morning hours of December 10th when she came awake with a start to someone roughly shaking her shoulder. Her eyes opened and met Mickey's green ones, throwing her instantly back to that night in the motel room when they'd met their first weeper; the one who'd slashed her own throat with a piece of broken mirror.

She heard the sound of a car horn honking faintly from somewhere outside and then Mickey was telling her, "Grab your bug-out bag. We've got to book it."

Sitting up and wondering distractedly if this was all a dream, she croaked, "What's going on?"

"Some asshole pulled up in the driveway while Brian was supposed to be on watch," he said, his words coming so fast that she could hardly understand him, his eyes wild and bulging in their sockets. "Little fucking junkie must've nodded off because he didn't raise the alarm. Hector woke me up." He rubbed a shaking hand over his face and said, "I think it's that asshole Dale. He wasn't dead, man. He must've seen that truck parked outside and recognized it."

"What truck?" she asked, looking around again and realizing that Virginia and Lilly weren't in the room anymore. "What are you talking about?"

"The Dodge Ram we took from him and his buddies!" He growled at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her rudely to her feet. "He saw it and now he's down there with a horde of the infected behind him, honking that goddamned horn and drawing them right to us!" He gripped her shoulders hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of fingermarks and screamed into her face, "Goddamn it, Evelyn, stop asking me stupid questions, grab your shit and fucking move!"

Shaking so violently that she worried she might fall, she slipped on her sneakers and her thick goose down jacket, putting it on over her flannel pajamas and zipping it all the way to her neck. Next she grabbed the big canvas bag she'd prepared and set aside at Luke's insistence. He'd decided a month ago that everyone should have what he called a 'bug-out bag' filled with clean clothes, water, food and other necessities in case they ever had to leave in a hurry. She silently thanked God for Luke's obsessive need to be prepared as she threw the strap over one shoulder and grabbed the Ruger and the box of shells from the nightstand, stuffing them into the pockets of her jacket. 

Evelyn left everything else in that room without a second glance, knowing that there was nothing inside worth risking her life over. As she moved for the door she heard the horn outside finally quit it's continuous blow, signaling that either the driver had been attacked or that he was driving off because the infected were too close to linger now.

She followed Mickey out of the room and met Luke just outside the bedroom door, probably coming to get her when Mickey hadn't been able to get her moving fast enough. He held his 1911 in one hand and his slate grey eyes were just as frantic and terrified as Mickey's when she met his gaze with her own. Speaking to both of them, he said, "We'll meet up in Thornberry tomorrow, okay?" They nodded back at him and he shouted, "Then go! Get the fuck out!"

She raced down the hall and down the stairs with Mickey right beside her and Luke following behind. They met Virginia, Lilly, Wyatt, Markus and Jack at the bottom of the steps. Hector stood by the front door with the Model 66 in one hand and Brian stood beside him, his blue backpack on his back and the Remington held tightly in his shaking hands.

"We don't have time to stand around," Luke said, the duffle bag of guns and ammo over his own shoulder. "Most of that horde is moving slow but you've still gotta run fast if you wanna live." He reached out and pulled open the door, waving at the world beyond with one hand, "Get your asses moving, people! Go! Go! Go!"

As Luke and Hector stepped out and began firing into the crowd with their M-16s, Markus and Virginia ran out and went around them, Markus carrying Lilly and Virginia carrying two bags of supplies over her shoulders. They raced for the huge red truck and Wyatt followed behind them, loaded down with two more bags of supplies. Jack was a streak of lightning behind them, his little furry body resembling a bullet as he raced out into the dark and around the crowd; barking and growling and yet gone so quickly that he might've never existed at all.

Evelyn and Mickey went next, racing toward the Silverado with Brian following closely behind. She glanced around and saw that Markus and the others made it just as the first infected came close enough to spot them and hobble along even faster. Dale, if that's who it had been, was already gone; she could see his taillights dwindling away on the road leading east.

The sound of automatic gunfire was heavy in the air, a constant ratta-tatta sound that made her ears hurt, and she hoped it would be enough to keep the infected back for a moment or two. Evelyn stumbled once while running and Brian grabbed her arm, keeping her from falling and pulling her along behind him as she struggled to match his pace. Mickey shot one of the infected that ran forward out of the dark and tried to grab him, a man in a crusty pair of overalls who went down poleaxed; his chest absolutely ruined by the spray of bullets from Mickey's M-16. 

A moment later they reached the truck and Brian's shotgun boomed behind her as Evelyn and Mickey threw their bags into the bed of the truck. Then they were pulling open the doors and hopping in, Mickey behind the wheel and Evelyn on the passenger side. She began to scoot over toward Mickey when she heard Brian scream suddenly in pain. She looked over to see that he was down on the ground with several of the infected on top of him, their snapping teeth already rending the exposed flesh on his arms and face.

"No, Brian! BRIAN!!!" She shrieked, frantically moving for the open door again.

She tried to hop back out as Brian's agonized screams continued to fill her ears, his blood flying up in the chilly air as more and more of the approaching horde fell on him growling and biting, but Mickey grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

"Leave him! He's gone, Evelyn! He's dead!"

The Silverado roared to life when Mickey released her to twist the key in the ignition and he stomped on the gas just as more of the infected came forward, beginning to pass up Brian's struggling form and heading for the open door. The Silverado shot forward, causing the passenger door to slam shut beside her, and he turned the wheel to bring them around. They began to follow the rapidly receding taillights of the Dodge ahead of them and, driving away from Brian and the swarm of bodies covering him, there was no one to hear his last gasp of pain when a woman with a missing eye ripped his throat out. Moments later the world was forever dark in Brian's eyes.

Mickey ran over a few of the infected in their path, their bodies crunching under the truck's wheels, and she heard a series of gunshots. She looked around, sobbing from the unspeakable horror of Brian's demise, and saw that the Dodge that had alerted their presence to some drugged out, vengeful redneck was already tearing off for the gate on the far side of the property. Looking toward the moving truck she saw another group of infected on top of somebody else by the grille. She couldn't tell who it was, it could've been either Luke or Hector, but the box truck's engine came to life and it was backing away from the mass of infected swarming whoever had fallen so she was grateful that at least one of them had made it.

The Silverado hit something and bounced her up off of her butt, sending Evelyn's head into the roof with a loud thud. She came back down seeing stars and then they were plowing through a huge crowd of the crazy people, knocking some violently aside and sending others beneath the wheels.

Coming out of the crowd, Evelyn saw the road ahead and Mickey accelerated again, hitting another dip in the ground and sending her into the dashboard with a cry.

"Put your fucking seatbelt on!" Mickey commanded through clenched teeth. "For fuck's sake, you're gonna go through the windshield if you don't!"

Evelyn's nose dripped with blood as she threw herself back into the passenger seat and drew the belt across her lap. They made it to the road and she didn't see the Dodge anywhere. Mickey made a left and then they were flying away from the house and their dead friends.

"Oh God," she said, wiping at her bloody nose and sobbing. "Brian, oh my God, they got Brian!"

"Shhhh," Mickey said, tears running down his own face. "It's going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay, I promise you."

***

Evelyn thought that whoever was in the moving truck had followed them but as they got a mile or two away she realized that she didn't see headlights behind them. She hadn't seen the Dodge either and said, "We lost everyone, Mickey. We went the wrong way!"

He didn't even glance at her, "Fuck it. We're fine. We've just gotta find somewhere safe."

"Mickey, we have to head for Thornberry," she said, feeling her guts twist inside of her painfully. All she wanted to do was find the others and see who all was left alive. She was torn between hoping that Luke had survived or that Hector had; knowing one of them had to be gone.

"No," he said, his teeth once again clenched in anger. "Fuck that. We're not going there."

"Yes, we are," she said, turning to look at him with wide, wet eyes. "Luke said we have to meet in Thornberry. The hell do you mean, 'No'?"

Mickey slammed on the brakes and she would've hit the dash again if she hadn't been wearing her seatbelt this time. The belt locked painfully on her chest and she gripped the handle above her head to brace herself against the tightness as the brakes squealed noisily and they came to a shuddering stop.

Mickey turned to look at her with his teeth bared, his eyes narrow slits of anger, "We're not going to that fucking town, Evelyn. We're not going anywhere near there!"

Unable to believe what she was hearing, she stubbornly repeated, "Yes, we are." She wiped at her leaking eyes with one hand and went on to say, "We're going there. That's the plan, that's where Luke told us to go. Turn this thing around and go the right way."

"You're not making the decisions here," he said, jabbing his finger at her angrily. "And if that asshole Luke's still alive the last thing I want to do is find him again."

"Mickey, you can't be serious," she said. "We can't just leave the group. It's not safe on our own."

Mickey gestured to the M-16 leaning against the door at his side, "We have plenty of firepower. We'll be fine."

"No!" she shouted, shaking her head at him and her own anger finally rising to meet his. "I'm not doing this! Turn this fucking truck around right now!"

Now he was the one shaking his head, "No, I won't. I won't and neither will you. We're doing this whether you like it or not."

Furious, her mouth working, she quickly unbuckled and reached for the door handle of the truck and meant to jump out. Mickey was on her like a flash of lightning, his hands grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back, his hand biting into her tender flesh and setting off her fury like flicking a light switch.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" She screamed suddenly, twisting around halfway to rain blows down on his defenseless head and shoulders. "You can't make me go with you! You can't! Let me go, you fucking chickenshit bastard!!"

She was in a rage like she'd never felt before, her tiny fists hitting him dozens of times and reddening his tattooed flesh, cursing and fighting as hard as she could against the incredibly strong hands trying to hold her back. He took the brunt of her anger without flinching until she caught him one good time in the mouth, splitting his lower lip behind her tightly fisted hand, and when his hands released her she dove for the door again.

Mickey snarled in fury and snatched her long brown hair in one fist, yanking her back again hard enough to make her scream in pain. He was roaring at her now in inarticulate rage as he dragged her back and wrapped one thick forearm around her throat, putting her in a headlock with his free arm.

Her throat was closing down smaller and smaller as he squeezed and she felt his hot rapid panting in her ear as she beat futilely at the rock-like arm choking her. As he cut off her oxygen completely her face began to feel hot and he was growling at her like one of the infected. 

After only a few seconds without air, the black waves of unconsciousness began to lap at the corners of her eyes and she thought, He's going to kill me. Please, God, oh God, my baby. Please don't let this happen to my baby.

Her movements began to slow and now the blackness in her vision was a tidal wave that would soon drown her and the life of the child inside of her. She couldn't even pray now; she could no longer think coherently enough. This was it.

Then, just before she would've been unconscious, the pressure of his arm finally seemed to lessen a bit before suddenly releasing her completely. Evelyn sucked in a huge gasp of air that burned her throat all the way down and she began to cough, doubling over from the force of them. The coughing lasted for a moment or two and she was gasping for air, tasting blood in her mouth.

When her coughing began to taper off she fell against the seat she heard Mickey say, "Oh shit. Oh shit. Evelyn, are you oka-"

She pulled the Ruger out of her pocket and pointed it at his guts, squeezing the trigger. When it didn't fire she looked down stupidly at the gun and then Mickey grabbed her wrist and twisted savagely. Evelyn cried out in her weak, scratchy voice and dropped the .357 into the seat between them. 

She didn't even see Mickey's free hand come flying out of the dark or feel the pain when his knuckles connected with her jaw. One second she was awake and the next she wasn't; slumping over onto her side in the seat next to Mickey.

Looking down at her form lying beside him, he panted and wiped at the sweat on his brow. "Stupid bitch," he whispered breathlessly. "Goddamned stupid cunt, look what you made me do."

Evelyn heard none of this, of course. She was completely out and for the time being she knew nothing at all. Mickey shifted back into drive and took off into the dark night once again, wanting to put as many miles between him and that house as possible.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Markus POV)

~Markus~

They spent the rest of that terrible night sleeping in the Dodge, (or trying too, anyway) and Markus awoke at around ten with a terrible crick in his thick bull-like neck and cramps in his calf muscles. They ate a small meal of MREs that probably tasted much better than any of them had been expecting and hit the road. They had a map in the glovebox and, after making sure he knew exactly where they were, he trailed his index finger down the path they would have to take to get to Thornberry; memorizing as much of it as he possibly could in his current state of exhaustion.

Markus was sure to look frequently at the map but still ended up getting them lost somehow down a nondescript country road. They had to backtrack for almost half an hour before they found the right way again and it was almost one in the afternoon when they finally came upon the tiny deserted town. They drove down the streets for about ten minutes before he spotted the moving truck parked outside of a house on Vinewood Avenue. He pulled up to the curb and came to a complete stop, turning off the ignition and letting the keys dangle. 

Looking at the tiny ranch house, he said, "Me and Wyatt will go check it out first, just to be sure."

"Fine," Virginia said in a quiet voice from the backseat, her arm around the peacefully sleeping Lilly. "Just be careful."

"Of course," Markus said and nodded at Wyatt who sat next to him.

Wyatt sighed and nodded back, the Mossberg 500 already in his hands. They stepped out into the chilly afternoon and the sky above let very little sunshine through the thick grey waves of cloud as far as the eye could see. With no power the street was dim at best but there was nothing moving so they both relaxed just a little. Markus and Wyatt headed up to the house and a moment later the door opened. Both Hector and Luke stepped out with their M-16s in hand.

Markus approached them with a huge grin and let his own rifle hang aside so that he could spread his arms wide and hug each of them in turn.

"God, it's so good to see you!" He cried, clapping Hector on the back and then stepping away to eye them both. "Where's my main man Bri?" Looking at the open door of the house, he saw no one else coming out to greet them and the smile on his face slowly began to shrink. "Not here yet?"

The look on Luke's face was one of apology and Markus lost his smile completely. "Brian didn't make it, Markus," he said. "The infected swarmed him and..."

"Goddamn it," Markus whispered after a long moment of stunned silence; blinking back the sudden tears that were forming in his eyes. Other than Lilly and Virginia, he'd probably been closer to Brian than anyone else and learning that they'd lost him felt like he'd taken a hard shot to the gut. He was going to miss the hell out of that kid.

Virginia and the now awake Lilly came up to join the diminished group then and, as they drew closer, the little girl asked, "Where's Jack?"

Luke and Hector exchanged a quick glance and Markus knew just from their body language that Jack had gone to that great big dog park up in the sky. 

Damn, even the fucking dog? he thought, feeling a bit sorry for that furry little guy, too.

"He ran off, honey," Hector said, giving the little girl a smile as he lied right through his teeth. "Don't you worry, he's a smart boy. He'll be okay."

Lilly frowned but didn't question it any further and Markus thought that was for the best. He didn't want her any more upset than she already was. She was only six years old, for the love of God. Who knew how much all of this crazy shit was affecting her? The more they could shelter her from, the better it might be for her in the long run. She had the whole rest of her life to learn about the complete truth of how things were now.

"Have you seen Evelyn or Mickey?" Luke asked, drawing him out of his thoughts again. "Brian was with them when he..." He trailed off, glancing at Lilly who stood nearby. Clearly he also saw the value in being a bit close-mouthed around such a young child.

Markus gave a shake of his head in answer to Luke's question, "I saw their headlights behind us last night and then when I looked around again they were gone. I was hoping they were with you already."

Luke's grey eyes burned into his and Markus knew that look. It was his 'get shit done' expression. The one he wore whenever a hard decision had to be made. 

"We need to go look for them," he said. "They could be stuck or in trouble somewhere."

"Yeah," Markus said. "Yeah, okay. Let's get everybody inside and then you and me will go hunting for them."

Luke nodded at him and looked up at the sky above, "Let's move quickly then, Markus. We only have maybe four hours of daylight left."

***

An hour and a half later they were pulling up on the house they'd abandoned the night before. Most of the horde of infected had moved on but some were still lingering to feed on the bodies of the ones who'd been shot down the night before.

In front of the house he saw a tiny pile of bones that could be none other than Jack's and then, looking farther to his right, he saw another ravaged body; this one still wearing a blue backpack. "Oh fuck," Markus said, a tear slipping out of each eye and cutting even darker tracks down his brown skin. "Oh Brian, oh fuck, I'm so sorry."

Luke sniffled and said, "He was a good kid, wasn't he? He liked to pop pills but he wasn't real bad off like some of those guys get. He tried hard to do the right thing...he still had a soul."

Markus nodded and looked away from the sickening sight of Brian's mortal remains. He tried to close his heart off and stop feeling the sick beat of sadness in his chest but it was hard. The kid had been almost like family to him. Things were never going to be the same without him.

"Come on," Luke said. "Let's get out of here. Maybe we'll come back and bury him once the rest of them have cleared off."

"I'd like to get my hands on that fucking hillbilly again," Markus said, seeing Dale's face clearly in his mind and feeling the red rage building up inside the pit of his stomach. "This time I'd make sure he was dead."

Luke only grunted in agreement and soon they were back on the road again, turning left and going in the same direction Mickey and Evelyn had taken the night before.

***

The sun was almost down and Markus and Luke had been driving forever, going down country roads and highways, searching for the blue Silverado with a dent in it's driver's side door. They saw a vehicle of the same make and model once but it was the wrong shade of blue and it stood on two flat tires outside of a Dairy Queen that had blood smeared all over it's windows, blocking their view of the inside.

Finally they decided to give up searching for the day and went back to Thornberry, hoping that maybe they'd arrived by now. Upon pulling up on the house, however, Markus didn't see the Silverado or any other car that hadn't been there this morning and his hopes for them dwindled down to almost nothing.

As he lay on the floor in the living room of the tiny house, Markus said a little prayer for Evelyn and Mickey, hoping they'd find their way there soon. After losing Brian and hell, even that smelly ass dog, he didn't know if he could handle losing anyone else today. He hoped wherever they were that they were safe and trying their best to find the group again. 

Markus had no intention of abandoning the search for the two missing but he knew that they could spend an entire year looking for Mickey and Evelyn and never find them. They didn't call the state of Texas 'big country' for no reason. Even looking for a needle in a haystack would seem a less insurmountable task than finding two people out in all these random farms and tiny towns. If Mickey and Evelyn didn't find their way here, he doubted that he'd ever see either one of them again.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)

~Evelyn~

She awoke some time long after the sun came up and when she moved her head the immediate surge of pain it caused in her jaw and temples made her cry out. She tried to raise her hands to grasp her pounding head but she got them about halfway up and something stopped her. Confused, she opened her eyes a bit wider and looked down. She saw that her hands were bound together with a length of rope and secured to another rope tied around her ankles. She was effectively hog-tied.

Things began to come back to her a little then and she twisted suddenly in her seat to see Mickey sitting behind the wheel, one arm cocked to lean against the window and the other draped lazily over the steering wheel.

"You're awake," he said, not turning to look at her. "I was hoping you'd be up soon."

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice coming out raspy and sounding nothing like her own. "What are you doing?"

She tried to swallow and grimaced at the pain in her throat. It felt as though she had decided to try gargling with rocks. He'd choked her, she remembered, choked her and then punched her when she'd tried to shoot him with the Ruger she'd taken out of her pocket. He'd kidnapped her. Taken her away from the only friends and family she'd had left. Now it was just the two of them.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" His tone was playful, as if nothing at all were amiss here. "I'm driving. Been doing it for hours while you had your beauty sleep."

She looked around and was surprised to see how drastically the scenery around them had changed. There was less green stuff now, less grass, trees and shrubs; less of everything. Rather than the almost black soil of North Texas, the ground was sandy and mostly bare in huge patches, making her think that he must've driven them west... much farther west than Gaines had been.

Are we even in Texas anymore? she wondered, her fear ratcheting up another notch.

There were a lot of those spiky yucca plants with dead bunches of tiny flowers sticking up out of the middle like weird bouquets. She saw hills and mesas far off in the distance and big tumbleweeds rolling here and there over the semi-arid desert landscape surrounding the speeding truck. The only thing of note other than the two lane highway they drove on was the occasional dirt road that branched off from it before disappearing over the horizon.

"I don't understand," she said, giving up at looking around at the endless nothing outside and returning her gaze to the man sitting behind the wheel. "Where are you taking me?" When he didn't answer she tried to clear her throat, making her grimace in pain, and asked, "What are you going to do to me?"

Mickey shook his head, "You're so full of questions today." His green eyes glanced over at her before flicking back to the empty road ahead. "This is the most you've spoken to me in over a month, you know that?"

"I'm serious, Mickey," she said, her head still pounding as she shifted a little in her seat. "What the hell is going on?"

"You'll see," he said. "Another thirty minutes at the most and we'll be there."

"I want you to untie me," she said as she tested the ropes binding her and only earned herself a bit of rope-burn for the effort."You can't keep me tied up like this."

"The fuck I can't," Mickey said, his voice changing, already becoming angry with her again. "You tried to shoot me."

"After you choked me!" she cried, wincing again at the fresh pain this brought from her raw throat.

"I didn't mean to do that," he grumbled. As if those meaningless words somehow made it better.

"How do you accidentally choke someone?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her fear gave way to anger, unable to help herself, and it turned her next words into an ear-grating shout, "You're crazy, Mickey! Untie me, goddamn it! Untie me right fucking now!!!"

Mickey slammed on the Silverado's brakes and brought them to a sudden, skidding halt; the tires shrieking on the sun-bleached pavement beneath them. If he hadn't taken the time to buckle her belt again after tying her up, she would've went face first into the dash and earned herself yet another bloody nose. Gasping as the seatbelt locked tightly between her breasts, Evelyn heard the unmistakable sound of Mickey unbuckling as he shifted into park and then he was right next to her; his hand gripping her left shoulder hard enough to hurt.

"I saved your life!" He shouted, his hand tightening and making her squirm beneath the building pressure of his digging fingers. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be just as dead as that fucking idiot Brian! I'd appreciate a little gratitude for what I'm trying to do here!" 

"I'm sorry!" she cried out, afraid he would choke or hit her again; her anger gone just as quickly as it had surfaced. She'd forgotten for a moment how much things had changed. Now that it was just the two of them she had to be very, very careful. 

She began to cry, not a calculated maneuver but one that might earn her mercy anyway. "Please, I'm sorry, Mickey!" She pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut tight and still expecting a blow. "Please! Just don't hurt me!"

He sat there for a long moment, his fingers digging and digging into her already bruised flesh, and then finally released her; his hands shaking with suppressed rage.

"Listen to me," he said, breathing hard. She did, continuing to tremble in fear and unable to bring herself to meet his gaze. "Just listen, okay? Don't do that, Evelyn. I-I'm trying really hard to keep my cool but you're making it a lot more difficult when you start screaming at me. What happened happened and no one can change that. Right now we need to make the best of our situation here, all right?"

Her breath hitching with a shuddering sob, she said, "I don't understand why you're doing this, Mickey. I'm sorry for whatever I've done to make you want to hurt me."

She flinched when his hand reached out for her face but instead of hitting her again, he only gripped her gently and lifted her head so that she was forced to look into his eyes.

"I don't," he told her. "I never wanted to hurt you, Evelyn. I want to help you. I told you that before, remember? I love you and I want to take care of you."

She bit her lip as the last few tears slipped down her cheeks and thought to herself that she'd managed to get away from an unstable man once before. Now here was another one just as bad or maybe even worse than he'd been.

It was almost like Jason was back from the dead. Back to finish what he'd started months ago. He might be wearing a different face and body but it was him just the same. Or close enough that it hardly mattered anyway.

This time, however, there was no one around to help her. She was completely on her own and if she wanted to stay unharmed she couldn't allow herself to forget who she was dealing with again. 

***

Thirty minutes later, just as Mickey said, they arrived at their destination. It was a little one story farmhouse with a beige paint job that looked fairly recent and there was a red Volvo parked underneath the tiny corrugated metal carport off to the right. There were rose bushes planted outside on either side of the front door, showing no color other than the dull green of their leaves at this time of the year, and what looked like a tiny fenced off vegetable garden off to the left of the house. Far off in the distance she could make out a few other buildings that could be houses and the moving propeller shapes of a long line of gigantic wind turbines.

Mickey pulled the Silverado in behind the Volvo and said, "Home sweet home."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a big folding knife. When Evelyn began to squirm away from him in her seat as he flicked it open, he said, "Relax. I already told you that I don't want to hurt you. So be still and I won't."

She forced herself to calm a bit and then he was scooting over to lean down by her feet. First he sawed carefully through the rope around her ankles, freeing her numb feet, and then he was grabbing the length of rope that had attached her wrists to her feet and sawing it off by a foot or more to shorten it. Now he had the end of that rope in one hand as a sort of leash, ensuring that she couldn't try to run away from him. He closed the knife and put it back into the front pocket of his jeans, never releasing his right grip on the rope that tethered them.

He slid back over to his side and opened the driver's side door. Stepping out, he pulled on the rope, forcing her to scoot along the seat after him to avoid being dragged. As she stepped out the pins and needles in her feet grew worse and she hopped from foot to foot, trying to get rid of that hated tingling sensation. Mickey drew the Glock Luke had given him out of the waistband of his jeans and started for the house to their left, pulling Evelyn along behind him like a dog or one of those unruly children you'd see attached by those weird kid leashes to tired-looking mothers in shopping malls or grocery stores all over the country not long ago.

Mickey followed the dirt path to the door and then squatted by the dormant rosebush to their left. She watched as he picked up a fake decorative stone with the word 'Love' carved into it in curly script. A key lay in the dirt beneath the rock and he deftly picked it up with two fingers of the hand with the rope. 

"How did you know that was there?" she asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to anger him again. "Is this your house?"

"Shhhh," he hushed her.

He rose to stand again and went to the oak door, trying to peer through the cut glass in the shape of a yellow tulip set into it. He wrapped the end of rope around his forearm, shortening it by a foot and forcing her to step closer to him. Next he unlocked the door and stuck the key absently in his pocket as he gripped the knob with one hand and his gun with the other.

He turned the knob and it opened easily without even the tiniest creak of sound to give them away. Stepping through, they came into a hall with an archway to the right that opened up to a small den with a TV and stereo and a big bookshelf packed with volumes of all different genres. He peered in for a moment, saw nothing moving and went down a little until the tiny hall ended. On the left there was a much longer bit of hallway with three open doors on the lefthand side and one on the right at the farthest end. Mickey chose to avoid the dimly lit hallway and turn right, however; leading Evelyn into the living room.

There was a completely uninteresting living room with a couple of navy fabric covered couches and a big flat screen TV mounted on the wall. A couple of end tables with lamps stood on either end of the bigger couch and there was a huge display case beneath the TV packed with what looked like hundreds of DVDs and Blue Rays. She looked directly behind her and saw a big open area that was part dining room and part kitchen. A little half wall separated the kitchen and dining room, part of it counter space for the kitchen and part of it a bar with stools sitting on the dining room side. 

Mickey took her over to a floor length curtain on the far wall and pulled it back to reveal a sliding glass door. Peering out she saw that someone had added on another part to the house; a half brick enclosure with big glassless windows to allow the breeze in and a corrugated metal roof supported by big beams anchored in the bricks. There were worktables and big rolling toolboxes and various half-finished projects everywhere. Whoever had lived here had been quite the handyman, it seemed. Mickey looked out for a long moment and then walked away to another closed door on the left side of the TV. Opening that she saw a laundry room and the smell of detergent stung her nostrils, making her headache worse.

He led her out of the living room and back to the hallway again. This time he checked every room, three bedrooms and a hall bathroom as well as another bathroom in the master bedroom. There was nobody in the house, dead or alive, and Mickey walked back into the bedroom with the big queen sized bed against one wall, breathing a sigh of relief.

"They must've taken off when things got bad," he said, speaking to himself as if Evelyn weren't even there anymore. "Maybe to go be with Margaret and her kids."

"Who's Margaret?" Evelyn asked.

He looked around at her and said, "My cousin."

"This is your Aunt and Uncle's place?

He nodded, "Yeah. Looks like they've been gone a while."

"Are you going to look for them?"

Mickey shook his head, "I was the black sheep in my family, more so to Uncle Joe and Aunt Barb than anyone. If any of them were still alive I doubt their feelings about me would've changed much. Hell, even my mom and dad didn't want much of anything to do with me after I got locked up."

He reached over to the lamp sitting on the end table and tried the light switch with one hand. They both gasped in surprise when light came on and Mickey chuckled a bit, "Gotta love those wind turbines, huh? I mean, I was hoping there'd be power, that's why we came all the way out here, but I wasn't sure there would be. How lucky are we, huh?"

"Pretty lucky," she agreed, feeling quite the opposite. 

***

With the supplies they found in the freezer and pantry along with what they'd brought with them, they were able to make a decent meal that night; a whole roasted chicken, some instant mashed potatoes and canned carrots. As she popped the last forkful of food into her mouth she saw Mickey lean back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. He looked like he felt a lot better than he had earlier, the dark circles under his eyes seemed less prominent anyway, and Evelyn felt hopeful that she might be able to reason with him now. Maybe he could be made to see how crazy this whole thing was.

"I'll go out to look for more supplies tomorrow morning," he told her, picking between his teeth with one longish pinky nail. "We'll have something even better to eat then, I promise. Some fresh fruit and vegetables, at least."

Evelyn wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin, the motion extremely awkward with her hands still tied together, and asked, "I won't be going with you?"

Mickey's emerald eyes were on hers and she felt a warning stirring in her guts. She had to be careful here and remember that there was no one to stop him if he got angry with her. He claimed he didn't want to hurt her but he hadn't exactly said that he wouldn't, either.

"I don't think that would be safe," he said, his voice low and his expression indecipherable. "You can't do much with your hands tied anyway."

Taking a deep breath and hoping that she wouldn't set him off again, she spoke as gently as she possibly could, "Untie my hands, then. It's not safe for you to go alone, either."

His brow creased in a frown and he said, "No. I can't trust you not to run off the first chance you get."

"Where am I going to go?" Evelyn asked, her voice tipping toward incredulousness. "I don't know where I am. I don't want to get lost in the middle of the desert."

He only looked at her for a long moment, his frown deepening even further, before he shook his head and repeated, "No. I can't trust you."

"Please, Mickey. I won't do anything, I swear. I'll -"

His fist slamming down on the surface of the table interrupted her and she flinched as the dishes on the table jumped from the force of his blow.

"I said no!!" he yelled at her, his face red with anger, his voice rising, rising, becoming a full-out scream at the end. "Are you purposely trying to piss me off or do you not understand the fucking word?! No! No! NO!!!"

She couldn't bring herself to look at him as she said, "I'm sorry, Mickey. I didn't mean to upset you." She was shaking in her seat, thinking that he was much more volatile than he'd ever been before. She had to be much more careful from now on.

He stood from his chair suddenly and came around the table for her, grabbing the collar of her pajama top and pulling, the fabric ripping with a soft purring sound under his hand. She realized that he wanted her to stand so she pushed with her legs until she came to stand next to him, looking down at her feet and still shaking violently.

"Let's just go to bed," he said, sounding as if he were struggling to gain control of himself once more. "It's been a long day and I only had maybe two hours of sleep. We can talk more about all this tomorrow, okay?"

Evelyn nodded quickly and whispered, "Okay."

So he put their dishes in the sink to worry about later and then he was pulling her down the hall to the master bedroom. Passing the hall bathroom she said, "Can I use the restroom first?"

Mickey stopped and turned to look at her, "Think you can go with your hands tied?"

"It would be easier if they weren't," she said.

"If I untie your hands, I'm coming in there with you," he warned.

She blanched at the thought and felt the anxiety gnawing at her guts once again. "Nevermind," she said, looking away from him. "I'll manage."

He released her and she hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door and shivering with relief as she felt his gaze finally leave her. She wanted to lock the door but thought that he might hear so she hurried to the toilet and skimmed down the elastic waistband of her smiley face patterned pajamas. It was awkward trying to clean herself with her hands tied up but she did it somehow and even washed her hands in the sink. She splashed some water on her face and then Mickey was knocking on the door.

"Are you almost done in there?"

Wiping her face with a hand towel from the little loop next to the sink, she said, "Yes!"

She looked at herself in the mirror, saw the huge purple bruise on her chin and the much bigger one across her throat. Moving the collar of her pajama top aside she saw more bruises in the shape of fingermarks all over her shoulders. Touching one with the tip of her finger she winced and thought, You have to be careful here. No matter what he does, no matter what he says; just go along with it. Do and say whatever he wants because survival is all that matters now. Because you have to live, Evelyn. There is no other choice.

He hammered the door with his fist, rattling the door in its frame, "You have ten seconds or I'm coming in there and dragging you out!"

She hurried to the door and pulled it open to see him scowling down at her, his green eyes narrowed down into suspicious slits. He grabbed the length of rope and pulled her forward, making her stumble a little and fall into him.

"Come on," he said.

He turned and led her to the master bedroom. He went to the nightstand on the side closer to the bathroom door and began rooting around in the top drawer. After a moment she saw him pull something out and set it aside before digging some more.

She looked past his shoulder a little and saw a badge sitting on the nightstand that said 'San Angelo P.D.' That was why his uncle and aunt hadn't liked him. One of them had been a police officer.

"Here we go," Mickey said, standing and showing her a pair of standard police issue handcuffs. "This will be much more comfortable for you than those ropes, I think."

"Mickey..." How could she talk him out of this?

"I'm not untying your hands, Evelyn," he said, his eyes narrowed on hers again. "Don't start that again."

She closed her mouth with a snap and then allowed him to lay her on the bed on her back. She was terrified of what he'd do next and couldn't find the courage to ask him. He untied her hands but only long enough to cuff her right hand to one of the little carved rails on the side of the big wooden headboard.

He pulled her shoes off and she began to cry, thinking the worst and trying to tell herself to be calm no matter what. He didn't say anything and when he reached up near her hips she gasped and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. He shushed her and she felt his hands tugging at the comforter underneath her.

Realizing what he was trying to do, she lifted her butt from the surface of the bed and allowed him to pull the blankets out from under her. He pulled them up over her legs and tucked her in. Then he leaned down and she turned away again as he planted a kiss on her forehead.

Mickey went around the bed and she lay staring at the wall as he kicked off his own shoes and slid out of his jeans; letting them drop to the floor. She began to shake harder as he slid into bed next to her and she felt his arm go around her middle as he lay his head next to hers. He snuggled up close and she stiffened like a board next to him; her heart beating so fast and hard that she knew he could feel it.

She was praying incoherently in her head as he draped a leg over hers and halfway lay on her, his hot breath blowing across her face and the edge of his leg only inches away from slipping between her thighs. She felt sick to her stomach, thinking the worst, but after snuggling with her the way a child might with a stuffed animal, Mickey lay still and whispered, "Goodnight, Evelyn."

Moments later he was asleep and snoring softly next to her. She began to cry silently in relief, thankful and yet still praying to God to help her get through this. Praying that she would get out of it untouched.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mickey POV)

~Mickey~

He left her that morning handcuffed to the bed. He turned off all the lights except the lamp next to her and gave her one of the books from the den to read. She cried silently and wouldn't look at him. Mickey felt the slightest twinge of guilt but at the same time he was angry at her too. None of this would be necessary if only she'd trust him. He never would've had to hurt her or tie her up. He didn't want to do any of those things but she was stubborn and suspicious. That goddamned snake Luke had gotten into her head, he knew. He'd turned the woman he loved against him before he'd ever had a chance.

At around ten that morning he pulled up to a convenience store called Allsups on the outskirts of town and killed the two aggressive infected who came at him after he stepped out of the truck. It wasn't all that difficult because none of the infected seemed to be doing so well lately anyway but these two had seemed sick. One of them had been running a fever, he was sure of it. He cut them both down with his machete and went about his business gathering supplies. Easy as pie.

He grabbed all the food and water he could and loaded it into the truck. There was no power in the store so the pumps wouldn't work and he was disappointed with how much time it would take. He didn't want to leave Evelyn there by herself any longer than he could help it. Who knew what could happen in the span of just a few hours?

Mickey went back inside and searched until he found a length of rubber hose in the storage room behind the counter. He could siphon gas out of the three cars that had been parked outside but he cursed the fact that this place had still been running on the local power grid rather than the power offered by the wind turbines only ten miles away. If the hick owners of this place had only gotten with the times he could've been in and out in minutes. He just wanted to get back and see her again.

Thinking of her once more and drifting away a little in his head, he gagged as gasoline hit his tongue and bent the hose until he could stick it in the opening of the gas can. He filled up a can from the beaten up Ford Ranger and then another from the little two door Mazda. The last two cans he filled came from a rusted old Lincoln he found with its front end crumpled against the badly dented dumpster.

Taking the gas cans back to the Silverado, he tried to remember the quickest way to the food bank on Springtown Boulevard. It was on the other side of the city and he could probably avoid going through town but he was afraid. What if he died out here and couldn't get back to her? She would stay handcuffed to that bed until she died of thirst or hunger and it would be all his fault. She could be a thick-headed bitch but he didn't want her to die because of it. He still loved her despite all the trouble she'd given him and she didn't deserve to die like an animal caught in a trap.

So, the truck loaded down with provisions, he decided to hurry back to the house and save the food bank for another day. He should've never left her there, he knew. He should've never walked out that door without her. From now on he wouldn't let her out of his sight. It was just too dangerous to leave her alone...for several reasons.

***

He found her lying curled up on the bed sleeping and watched her slow, even breathing for a long moment. Her face was free of the worried look it'd worn since the night before last and she had her free hand curled up under her chin like a tired child. She looked so peaceful sleeping there he could almost forget she'd tried to shoot him less than two days ago. She would've but, luckily for him, a round hadn't been chambered in the gun when she'd pulled the trigger. Otherwise he'd probably be dead as dog shit by now.

Letting his eyes drift upwards, he found himself looking at her other hand, the hand still tightly handcuffed to the little wooden rail on her side of the bed. The wood underneath one end of the cuff was scraped and gouged and at the other end he saw a raw, red ring of flesh underneath the metal encircling her flesh. The metal had rubbed her skin raw in almost a perfect circle around her slender wrist from her no doubt repeated efforts to slip her hand out of it somehow. She'd probably starting yanking at the cuffs the moment he'd walked out of the door; sweating, grunting, crying and cursing before finally giving up. 

Mickey wasn't really surprised but this news did not exactly thrill him either. If she'd managed to get free she would've run as fast and as far as her legs would take her...or however far the gas that was in the little red Volvo sitting outside would've taken her. 

Trying to ignore the fury bubbling up inside of him like a volcano ready to blow, he forced himself to ever-so-gently reach down and touch her shoulder, "Evelyn?"

She came awake at once, her handcuffs rattling as she twisted around to see him standing over her. "W-what?" she asked, her beautiful blue eyes wide in fear. Fear of him.

Feeling an almost stabbing-like pain right in the center of his heart, he thought, She's never going to trust me and she's never going to accept the situation. In her eyes, she will never be anything more than a prisoner here with me. She's going to go for broke the first chance she gets. 

He tried harder than ever to bite back his anger at this thought and reached over to unlock the cuff around the bed frame before placing the handcuff key back into the watch pocket of his dirty blue jeans.

"We're going to eat lunch," he told her, his voice sounding gruff and much harsher than he'd intended. "Come on, get up."

She sat up and the scared look in her eyes never ebbed in the slightest. She looked at him the way a kicked puppy looks at a cruel master.

"I thought you'd be gone for a while," she said warily as he pulled on the empty cuff and forced her to stand. "I didn't expect you'd be back so soon."

"I was gone for two hours," he said, clicking the empty cuff around his left wrist to keep her from even thinking about running. 

Her eyes seemed sad as she looked down at her feet and said, "Oh."

He grunted and said nothing as he led her down the hall and into the kitchen. They ate a lunch of canned soup and stale crackers, sitting next to one another and still not speaking. He noticed it was a bit awkward for her to eat with her left hand and when she spilled some soup on her shirt he tried to do the kind thing and blotted it with his napkin.

He noticed the way she began to tremble when his fingers touched the top of her left breast; not being lecherous in the least, only cleaning her up like you would a clumsy toddler. The beat of rage in his head deepened and he began to fume silently after that, wishing that Luke were there so that he could shoot the bastard's knees out for the poison he'd trickled into her ear. Things should be going so much smoother than this. 

He wasn't her enemy but how could he make her realize it? Was it even worth trying? It seemed as though she had made up her mind about him already.

After lunch they cleared the dishes and he grabbed one of the six packs of beer he'd taken from the convenience store that morning. It was nearly as warm as piss but he didn't care. It tasted good and he felt his anger begin to dull a little as they sat on the couch and watched some stupid movie about pirates. Then another one about robots becoming self-aware and taking over the world. She sat next to him silent the entire time as he drank beer after beer; so still that she might've been a wax dummy posed there beside him.

As the day wore on he worked slowly through the six pack and when dinner came around he began working on another, not wanting to lose the buzz he'd had going since lunch. After dinner he began to drink with more enthusiasm, downing two back to back, and when she asked to use the bathroom he went with her in spite of her panicked pleading against it.

He watched her use the toilet, not caring that she cried miserably or that her cheeks were flamed red with embarrassment, working on his last beer. When she stood to raise her pajama pants again he shook his head and gestured toward the shower. He smiled at her and she began to cry harder so he pulled her closer and practically tore the old pajamas off of her body; his slowly mounting excitement making him do it much more roughly than he meant to.

She tried to cover her nakedness with her hands but he still saw everything and smiled to himself before finishing off his tenth beer for the day. Swaying a bit on his feet and almost falling, he took off his own clothes until he was just as naked as she was. He heard her gasp and looked over at her to see her shocked expression, her wide eyes staring at his broad chest.

He looked down and realized what had disturbed her. The tattoos. He'd forgotten about his fucking tattoos somehow. The Nordic hammers, the swastikas and the double S. The ones he'd kept hidden around her for so long. The ones he'd known would upset her and most people outside of the penal system.

"Oh," he said, pointing at the double lightning bolts encircled by the words AB Texas and then at the big showy swastika over his heart. "These. Yeah, they don' mean nothin'. I got 'em in tha pen. White boy like me had to take all tha help he could get. It's not tha same on the inside, you know? I joined tha Aryans because they were tha only ones who could look out for me." His gaze met hers again and she quickly looked away, uselessly trying to cover her breasts with one arm and chewing her lip in fear.

Realizing that she had nothing to say to that, he reached over to turn on the shower with his unfettered hand. He let it run for a moment until it got warm and then pulled her closer before forcing her inside.

"Please," she said, the spray hitting the top of her head until she backed away, still trying to cover herself and turn away from his red-eyed gaze. "Please, Mickey. Don't do this."

"Shuddup," he said, his words thick with disdain and slurred almost beyond recognition. "Just shuddafuckup. I'm not gonna do nothin'. I'm not gonna hurt ya, ya fuckin' crybaby."

He got into the shower with her and she turned to face the wall, crying hard with her shoulders shaking and showing him nothing but the round shape of her bottom. He still had her right arm connected to his left one though and he yanked her back until she fell into him, yelping out in fear and revulsion when their bare skin came into contact.

He pushed her off again and said, "Stop bein' so dramatic."

She stood next to him crying harder than ever as he soaped up and cleaned the last couple of days of grime from his body. He couldn't stand the sound of her sobs echoing off of the tile wall around him, the constant sound was driving spikes of pain into his buzzing head.

He thrust the soap at her and said, "Here. Shuddup and wash yourself, girl."

She tried to choke back her tears and turned away from him, shaking violently as she tried to obey his command. When the soap suddenly squirted out from between her hands he saw her stiffen and go deathly silent and still. It took him a moment to realize through the fog of alcohol clouding his brain what was wrong with her and then he laughed, his cries echoing of off the tile even louder than her crying had. 

"Don' worry," he said, still laughing. "I'll get it."

He bent over and grabbed it, helping himself to a good long look at her, and then handed it back. She washed off quickly and then he gave her the shampoo and conditioner so that she could wash her hair too.

Evelyn had finally seemed to calm down a little bit after his laughter over the soap and he admired the muscles moving beneath her slick skin as she worked the suds in her hair. When she was done they both rinsed off and Mickey shut the water off before stepping out.

The room was steamy as he pulled her out behind him with a yank on the cuffs and then he was looking in the cabinet under the sink to find a towel for both of them. He tossed a big red one at her and she quickly covered herself, hiding the flesh that had given him an erection despite all the beers he'd drunk.

He dried off too, not attempting to hide his arousal from her because he knew that it didn't really matter anymore. Luke wasn't around to cockblock him and neither was anyone else. Let her know, let her see. He was just a man, after all. It wasn't like he could help it. She wasn't some sheltered virgin and she knew how it worked.

He led them into the master bedroom again and he pulled out the bug-out bags they'd taken from the house the night they'd left. He let her get dressed, watching her with great interest, and then he dressed as well. He waited as she quickly brushed out her wet hair and then he unlocked the cuffs from his wrist with the handcuff key before putting it back into his pants pocket and kicking them to once side. Mickey led her around to her side of the bed and then secured her to the head board again.

She was trembling in fear as he tucked her in and wouldn't look at him as he kissed her forehead. He frowned but said nothing as he went around and climbed into bed with her. He snuggled up to her and laid his head on her chest, sighing when the warm feel of her soft skin cushioned his weary head. She tried to wriggle away from him but he pulled her closer, trapping her beneath his arm and leg.

She didn't have to be so scared, he thought. He wasn't a bad guy. It wasn't like he was going to hurt her. She was perfectly safe with him, no matter what Luke had told her. He really wasn't that kind of person.

Thinking this even as he held her against her will, he whispered goodnight and promptly fell asleep.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)

~Evelyn~

She awoke only an hour after she'd finally dozed off and felt some strange object lying between her legs. Something large and warm and foreign. She shifted, struggling to throw off the haze of sleep, and felt Mickey pressing into her from behind. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart behind her left shoulder and then the warmness that she slowly realized was his hand wriggled against her again; his flesh separated from her most intimate of places only by the thin cotton of her panties. 

Evelyn was wide awake now, her throat dry, her own heart speeding up until it almost matched his in perfect rhythm. Mickey's breath, redolent with sour-smelling hops and barley, blew hot on the back of her neck as he panted rapidly. His fingers wriggled against her again and she shuddered, crying out in a choked voice. She was on her right side, facing the bathroom door and Mickey was urgently grinding his erection into the flesh of her left buttock as he awkwardly pawed at her.

The hand between her legs was trying to slip under her panties.

"No!" she cried out breathlessly in her scratchy, strangled voice. "What are you doing? Stop it!"

"Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay," he whispered, pushing against her harder and making her cry out in discomfort as he jabbed her again. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I only wanna -"

"Stop it!" she said again, panicking and trying to wriggle away from him somehow. But she was still cuffed to the bed and he was too strong; keeping her locked in place against him.

Desperate, on the verge of tears, she tried again, "Let me go! Please, Mickey!"

"Shhhh, be quiet," he whispered, pressing his moist lips against her ear and making her shake harder than ever. "I'm not gonna hurt you if you be still."

After fumbling for so long, he finally found the waistband of her plain cotton underwear and slid his obscenely warm hand inside. She gasped as she felt his fingertips touch the first soft curls of her pubic hair and wailed, "Stop it!!!"

His other hand came out of the gloom then and snaked beneath the pillow under her head. She cried out miserably one last time and then his palm clamped over her mouth, silencing her as he gripped her face hard enough to hurt. She could taste the saltiness of his skin as he smashed her lips against her teeth and then he was hurriedly pulling her little sleeping shorts and panties down until they were between her ankles.

He let go of her clothes and she felt him press his free hand urgently against her back, forcing her to bend at the waist slightly so that he could get the angle that he wanted. He groaned in an almost painful, needy-sounding way and she thought, Don't fight him, Evelyn. Don't fight or you'll just make it worse. He'll make it worse.

Mickey's breathing became rougher, more ragged, and she felt him reach behind her to take himself in hand. He nudged her a couple of times and then let go suddenly to bring his hand up to his mouth and spit. She winced when she felt the thick, rough fingers of his hand slathering the wetness on her; him trembling in excitement and her in absolute terror. 

Evelyn felt him nudge her a couple more times as he whispered, "I promise I'm gonna be gentle. I'm not gonna hurt you, baby."

Still telling herself not to fight, not to struggle so that he maybe wouldn't hurt her too badly, she screamed in pain behind his hand as he suddenly pushed forward with his hips and rammed his way inside of her. Even with the spit he'd used, she hadn't been anywhere near ready for this brutal intrusion and it burned inside of her like fire. She thought he must've ripped something as he slid himself in even further with a low, shuddering groan of pleasure.

The tears fell in a torrent as he began to thrust his hips quickly back and forth. She gripped the comforter in her free hand as she cried out under his hand in humiliation and pain, hoping that it would just be over soon. It wasn't though; it seemed to go on forever as she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears and he rocked her faster and faster. Swaying with his forward and back motion she lay there thinking, I don't feel it. I don't feel anything because this isn't happening. None of this is really happening.

Lying to herself didn't make it better. She could feel everything and, even though the pain finally began to lessen some, it was still happening. It was real and she couldn't pretend that it wasn't happening anymore than she could stop him from doing what he was doing as he muffled her sobbing beneath his hand. She'd known in her gut that this was going to happen since she'd first woken up and found herself tied up; she just hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. She'd wanted so badly to believe that it wouldn't come to this, that she could somehow avoid the unavoidable.

His breathing began to come even faster, shallower, and he cruelly gripped her left breast through her shirt with his free hand as he cried out loudly behind her. He grunted her name then, his voice thick and animal-like, and she felt him begin to spasm inside her. Pressing hard against her again, he cried out one last time as he finally finished. Evelyn gagged behind his hand as she felt the sickening spread of his warmth deep in her lower belly. It was one indignity too much and she felt as though she'd vomit behind his hand and end up choking on it.

Shaking and sweating, he leaned against her for a long moment before finally withdrawing and pulling up his boxers once more. He kissed her shoulder and she felt him reach down to clumsily pull her clothes back into place. She was still sobbing as his hand came away from her mouth and he said, "You're okay. You're okay, Evelyn. Don't worry."

She turned her face into the pillow and continued to sob as she felt the wetness begin to slip out of her and soak her the fabric now between her legs. He'd just raped her and he was saying that she was okay but she wasn't.

Nothing was okay. Nothing might ever be okay again.

***

She woke the next morning to Mickey's hand shaking her shoulder, nearly screaming as she opened her eyes and saw him peering back down at her. 

"Wakey, wakey. Eggs and bakey," he said and gave a low, humorless chuckle.

He uncuffed her from the bed with a smile on his face as if nothing had happened the night before. As if he didn't remember any of it. Evelyn looked away from him, shaking; feeling dirty and soiled and terrified that he would do it again.

Thankfully he didn't and, after cleaning up under his watchful gaze, he sat them down at the table to a breakfast of oatmeal and bottled orange juice. She stared at her food listlessly and she could feel his eyes heavy on her but she wouldn't look at him. She couldn't look at him.

"Does it taste bad?" He asked her in his sickeningly normal voice. "The butter was still good, I checked the label. Do you not like brown sugar?"

She only continued to swirl her spoon in the thick goop and stare, her cuffed hand attached to his once more and lying on his muscular thigh.

He shook the cuffs and said, "Evelyn, I'm talking to you."

She nodded to say that she'd heard but she still couldn't look over at him. She was too afraid.

"Evelyn, goddamn it, you look at me right now!!!"

Her head snapped up and she looked to her right, flinching as if he'd taken a swing at her. Finally meeting his gaze she could see the fury in his eyes and she was trembling harder than ever.

"That's better," Mickey said with a shake of his head, his face still red with anger but his voice almost neutral again. "What's wrong with you?"

"You raped me last night," she told him, surprising both of them. She'd had no idea that she was going to say it but her fear brought the truth out of her almost against her will. "I thought you were my friend but you kidnapped me and you raped me."

Color rose in Mickey's cheeks and he dropped his spoon in his bowl with a clatter. "Evelyn, I -"

"You raped me," she repeated, her voice hollow and her eyes filling with tears. "You're a rapist, Mickey." 

"Evelyn, I didn't - I mean, I never wanted -"

"Is that why you went to prison? Did you rape other women before me or am I your first?"

The color on his stubbled cheeks darkened even further as his eyes slightly widened in surprise and she knew she'd struck a nerve. Maybe it wasn't why he'd gone to prison but he had probably done something like that to someone before. Maybe he hadn't taken it as far but he'd known it wasn't right. He had to know.

She felt sick to her very soul. She'd trusted him. They all had. She'd trusted this disgusting son of a bitch and he'd ended up raping her for it.

Even though she could see the shame and fury on his face, she couldn't stop herself now and she was nearly shouting at him, "Is this your idea of love, Mickey? To keep me tied up and... and violate me whenever you feel the urge?"

His free hand swept his bowl of oatmeal off of the table and it crashed to the floor in a shatter of glass and brown goop. She cried out in surprise as he reached across for her and grabbed the front of her shirt; bringing his face very close to hers.

Through clenched teeth he said, "Shut. Up."

Eye to eye with him she couldn't think anymore, could barely breathe as he glared at her and panted with barely suppressed rage. 

"I'm sorry, Mickey," she whispered. "Please, I didn't mean -"

She flinched as his hand tightened further on the fabric of her shirt, bringing her so close that their noses were touching, "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You have no idea what I could do to you if I wanted. Don't push me, Evelyn. Just don't fucking push me."

Tears spilled over her lower lids and she whispered, "I'm sorry. Please..."

His eyes stared into hers for an endless moment and finally he said, "I don't wanna hear you talk like that no more. You understand me? Don't make me do something we'll both regret "

"I understand," she said, nodding as her face fell apart and she sobbed her next words. "I'll do whatever you want, Mickey. I'll be good, I promise."

He nodded slowly and released her, sitting back in his chair. Then he told her the same lie she'd heard so many times from him before, "I don't want to hurt you, Evelyn."

She didn't respond, only wept into her free hand and wished that she'd never believed this monster sitting beside her for even a moment. She felt as though it were her fault and, even though that was utterly and completely wrong, she couldn't keep herself from feeling that way.

She wished that she'd told Luke to blow his fucking brains out when she'd had the chance.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Luke POV)

~Luke~

It was now January 25th and it had been six weeks since Evelyn and Mickey had disappeared. Despite all their days of searching, they had seen absolutely no sign of either of them. They'd spent hundreds of hours driving down deserted country roads and through small towns in a fifty mile radius of Thornberry and had come up with jack-shit.

They had buried Brian and Jack and retrieved the rest of the supplies from Richard Davis's house but they couldn't stay there any longer. They got rid of the Dodge and replaced it with a different truck but if Dale found them there once who was to say that he wouldn't return and try to find them again only to pull something even worse next time? If he got his hands on a few explosives or on an armored vehicle and decided to come calling they might not be so lucky to escape with their lives again.

So they found another million dollar home with a huge turbine and settled everyone in after making sure it was empty. It was even bigger and nicer than the home Richard had owned but it felt different with the group nearly halved the way it was. Luke missed Evelyn every day and hoped that she would find her way back someday. He didn't want to give up hope that she was still out there somewhere. 

Taking it a step further, he began to leave little signs for her in spray paint on the side of houses or shoe polish on big windows, the message always reading the same:

"E.M. head to the meetup point. Find the house with the green door and the dead tree out front. Further instructions inside. Love, L.A."

Everywhere they went he left the same message, hoping that somehow she would find it. He saw the pitying looks the rest of the group gave him, the sad puppy-dog eyes and reluctant smiles, but he ignored them. Everyone had already given her up for dead. The only reason they even went out looking anymore was because Luke insisted. He wouldn't give up, couldn't give up. He'd seen them drive away. Seen it with his own eyes. Even as stupid and impulsive as Mickey could be, he thought he wouldn't get them so lost that they couldn't find their way back.

That night he laid down on his big, empty bed and fell asleep thinking of her; worrying for her and for the baby she hopefully still carried. He was sure that was what prompted the dream, not that it was the first time he'd dreamed about her or even the first nightmare about her, but it was different this time. Somehow it seemed like more than a dream. As weird as it was, it was so vivid that it seemed real.

***

Luke found himself outside of a carnival in the dead of night. There were a lot of blinking lights and shifting shadows and cries of excitement but he was separated from it by way of a huge wrought iron fence with spikes at the top. The kind of fence you would more likely find around a cemetery rather than a carnival. 

He walked up to the little booth to his right and an infected sat inside it's rough wooden turret-like form. It's face was split down the middle and slightly separated to reveal the shape of its skull beneath. It grinned at him with it's split lips and gestured with one dirty hand toward the gate further to the right. 

There was a loud click from somewhere inside the booth, followed by an overly jolly automated voice, "Free admission, tonight only! Bring your friends and family!"

Luke nodded at the horror in the booth and walked toward the gate. It pushed open easily under his hand and he went inside, smelling popcorn and cotton candy but, underneath it all, also something that was sickly, sour and unpleasant; like mildewing clothes left in a pile somewhere until they begin to turn black and rot. Instinctively he knew that this was somewhere he didn't want to be but he couldn't make himself leave. There was something he was supposed to find here.

Walking further into the smells and flickering lights of the strange carnival, Luke couldn't quite see the people moving around him. They were going too fast and they were nothing more than faceless, indistinguishable blurs of color. He could hear their laughter and squeals of excitement, however, and it sounded wrong. It sounded forced like Richard's good cheer had been. Like all those throaty bellows and titters could easily turn to screams if given enough time. 

He was walking down a narrow dirt alley with carnival games and rides on both sides. Past a merry-go-round, past a dunk tank, a ferris wheel so tall that he couldn't see the top in the inky blackness of night above, a ring toss game, a test your strength game, and so on. People still rushed here and there all around him, moving to one booth or another, and he could dimly hear the carnival workers' huckstering cries of "Step right up!" and "Win the pink elephant for your sweetie!". He ignored them all and continued down the carnival thoroughfare; looking for something but not knowing what, only that these were all distractions around him. Distractions he couldn't afford to waste another second on.

Finally he came to the end of the alley, seeing a wooden structure gaily painted in big red and yellow stripes standing before him. There was a sign above the open doorway that said 'FrEaKsHoW' in blinking lights and he stepped up to a figure in a bed sheet with big black holes for eyes. The voiceless apparition waved him inside just as the infected had at the gate and he stepped through the darkened doorway and into a dimly lit hallway. 

There were red velvet drapes blocking him from going farther than a few steps and he pushed one aside and walked through. Now he was in a long dark hallway with lamps flickering on the walls here and there. Moving ahead he saw another set of red drapes against the wall and then the glass partition separating him from a room with sickly green light.

Inside sat Brian on a couch facing the glass, an old TV set in front of him casting that green light on him as he laughed and dug his hand into a big cartoon-ish popcorn box with red and white stripes and a sawtooth edge around the top. When he pulled his hand out of the box it wasn't popcorn that he had cupped in his hand but pills, so many long white pills that they spilled out over his hand and back into the box. He shoved the messy handful into his mouth and began to chew with great relish.

After swallowing them he began to laugh, slapping at his knee and braying like a donkey, his brown eyes glued to the TV in front of him. Luke could only see the back of the TV but whatever it was showing Brian must have been very interesting because he never once looked away. He only continued to laugh and munch on more pills, the green light around him making everything appear radioactive.

Luke hurried on and came to another big window frames in those thick velvet drapes. Beyond the glass there was another room where Richard and his dead family sat around the big dining room table that had been in their house. All of them were rotting and showing more bone and muscle than their now blackened skin. A big candle-lit dinner sat on the table in front of them, complete with a huge pink ham and big dishes of mashed potatoes, glistening ears of buttery corn and a huge, fancy gravy boat. Richard was carving the ham with one hand and putting big hunks of dripping meat onto plates for everyone. They all served themselves the sides and when it came time to pour the gravy over the potatoes, liquid shit came out instead. Luke hurried on from this window, feeling ill and not wanting to see another second of this macabre display.

The next window was dark and Luke stood in front of it for a long moment, waiting for the show to start. There was a loud click and vaudeville music began to play as a spotlight came on and showed him Evelyn.

She was dressed in black and white, frilly and satiny and girdled, and there were wires around her wrists and ankles that were digging cruelly into her flesh. Her face was painted up like an old-fashioned mime; dark lines around her eyes an trailing down to her cheeks, ruby red lips painted to resemble a smile, her face an unnaturally pale circle. She began to dance in a clumsy, almost robotic shuffle along with the music; her wide blue eyes never leaving their focus point somewhere above his head. 

The wires attached to her wrists and ankles forced her to move in a burlesque bump and grind, the metal around her wrists cutting them open and causing dark blood to slowly slip down to coat her flesh. She continued her awkward dance, pulled along by the wires as a living marionette, her narrow hips thrusting forward and back and then spinning around to bend over and flip up her skirt. Her frilly bloomers shook back and forth as she bounced along with the music, blood pooling on the floor below her in a shining circle.

She twirled back around and jumped up, her ankles crossing and her arms coming up above her head, mimicking a ballerina and splashing blood across the glass between them. Finally the music stuttered and came to a big finish, the wires dropping her down to the ground in a split with one leg in front of her and one behind. She bowed at the waist with a sweeping gesture from her bloody arms and finally her eyes met his just as she opened her mouth and blood came pouring out in a flood; drenching her and everything around her in red.

She crumpled to the ground in a heap and then someone in a long, flowing cape stepped out of the shadows around her, moving into the spotlight. It was Mickey and he was clapping his hands loudly as he smiled and cried out, "Give her a hand, folks! Isn't she lovely? Isn't she just to die for?!"

Suddenly he produced a huge butcher knife out of thin air and advanced on the unmoving form of Evelyn, his grin turning into a grimace of hatred and anger.

Luke screamed and raised both his hands up and smashed them into the glass in front of him. It did not shatter and he tried again, screaming her name, beating on the impossible wall before him with all his might.

He saw Mickey bend down and shove the blade into her belly. It went in all the way to the hilt and she didn't move, only lay there as he began sawing her open.

Luke screamed and screamed and then the dream was breaking up and fading; leaving him to drift alone in the dark once again.

***

He awoke the next morning with the dream mostly forgotten...all but the part about Evelyn and the twisted marionette she'd become at Mickey's command. 

Normally he didn't put much stock in any of the weird head-movies his brain chose to broadcast at night from time to time but this time it felt different. This time it felt like his subconscious had known the truth all along and had only now chosen to reveal it to him. The nightmare had forced him to confront the thing that scared him most.

He should've known when they didn't show up the first day. They hadn't gotten stuck somewhere or run into some unforeseen trouble that prevented them from returning. She wasn't dead and he wasn't dead. Not yet anyway.

Mickey had seen an opportunity to run with Evelyn and had taken it; his plan in mind probably long before she'd even realized they were going the wrong way. The dream aside, God only knew what he had done or was doing to her now. He only hoped that she was okay, that she'd managed to find a way to survive mostly unharmed. He wouldn't begin to entertain the thought of her death.

He approached Hector after breakfast and began asking him everything he knew about Mickey. Unfortunately, it wasn't much as they hadn't ever been exactly close.

"What about where he lived before he went to prison? Did he ever mention anything about that?"

Hector rubbed his whiskered chin for a moment and finally nodded, "Yeah, actually. He told me he grew up in West Texas. Somewhere near San Angelo, I think."

"San Angelo, huh?" 

He could drive out there in a day. If he kept his foot down on the pedal and really tried, he could be there in six hours. Luke was already thinking of how many gas cans he should take with him when Hector interrupted his train of thought.

"You think he took her, don't you?" The shorter, thicker man asked, his face drawn in worry and fear. "You think he stole her away and is keeping her somewhere?"

Luke's grey eyes met his and he frowned, "I'm almost positive of it, Hector. He's got her tied up somewhere and...and..."

Hector brought up one hand to cross himself, "Jesus, that's a scary thought."

"Yes," he agreed. "Very scary."

"How soon are you leaving?"

Luke gave him a dry smile, "Now's as good a time as any to go on a wild goose chase. I need some help gathering stuff if you're up to it."

"I'll go with you," he volunteered. "I can help keep an eye out."

"There's no guarantee that we'll find them," Luke said. "They could be anywhere. I could be gone for a week or more."

Hector was nodding, "Sure, but there's no sense in me sitting on my hands, either. We don't need to do supply runs and Markus and Wyatt will keep the girls safe. What can I do here besides get fatter and watch the time run away from me?"

Luke clapped him on the shoulder and grinned at him, "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Hector."


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Evelyn POV)

~Evelyn~

"I don't want to hurt you."

That's what he kept telling her. The same old lie repeated again and again as he did exactly that. The time she spent trapped in that little house with him was like a bad dream that she couldn't wake up from. She didn't know if she could take it much longer. 

Every time he touched her she felt like another small piece of her was dying in some way; leaving her feeling more and more hollow and dead inside. Even Mickey began to notice the change in her and he in turn became even more brooding and quick to anger.

For the last week and a half she had begun to think that she was losing her mind. Time slipped away from her, hours and hours, and she only came back to herself when Mickey forced her out of it. He was angry with her whenever she went away inside her head but she couldn't help herself. It was much more pleasant to drift; to dream of a world where none of this was happening. It was wonderful to be away from his glowering presence for a little while even if it was only inside her mind because he never left her alone anymore. Anywhere he went, she went too. He was always there. He was always watching. Her head was the only safe place left to her.

It had been almost eight weeks since the first night he'd raped her and he'd continued to do so every night since. She didn't fight him or hardly cry anymore. She just squeezed her eyes shut tight and waited for it to be over. Waited for the disgusting end and then the relief of it being done with for the next little while.

He was voracious in his appetites, though, and she was constantly sore and bruised from his attentions. He seemed happier now that she submitted to him without protest but she could sense that he wasn't completely satisfied. She couldn't ever give him what he wanted; she couldn't force herself to pretend to love him. She wouldn't ever be his in the way that he really wanted and that was probably one of the reasons why his drinking had gotten progressively worse. Why Mickey would sometimes sit there for half an hour or more staring at her with a sullen look on his face. Looking at her as if he hated her and wanted to hurt her even more than he already had. She could see the mounting hostility in his green eyes and sometimes he would shout at her or be rough with her for no reason but, thankfully, Mickey hadn't used his fists on her again.

On February 10th, exactly two months after he'd taken her, they were sitting on the couch, handcuffed together like always, and she started to feel sick to her stomach. Really sick. She hadn't felt very good since that morning and had already thrown up twice.

She sat there trying to ignore the bubbling feeling in her stomach, the small amount of lunch she'd managed to force down churning and churning like a washing machine over-packed with clothes. Water began rushing into her mouth and she just had time to try to cover her mouth with her free hand before she projectile vomited all over the floor in front of them.

Mickey, who had been sitting beside her sipping on a cold beer like usual, cried out in surprised disgust and spilled it all over the front of his shirt, "Oh, what the fuck?!"

She unloaded all over the floor once more and began to cry, the churning feeling inside of her worse rather than better as the flow of vomit finally quit. In a weak, helpless voice, she said, "Oh God... s-something's wrong with me."

Mickey forced her to stand and suddenly she was gagging again so he quickly scooped her up with one arm and ran with her to the hall bathroom, getting her there just in time before she erupted again, the force of her vomiting so strong that it hurt her insides as she gripped the edge of the toilet with her free hand and spewed.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Mickey said, one hand against his mouth as she finally finished, looking a little sick himself. "What the hell?"

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she leaned weakly against the wall next to her and said, "I don't know. I just don't feel too g-"

Then, without warning, she began to go again, hacking and gagging, the yellow bile that came out this time burning and searing her all the way from her stomach to her throat.

Mickey gagged too and suddenly she felt him unlocking the cuff from his wrist. Then he was racing out of the bathroom, unable to handle anymore, muttering something that she couldn't understand as she fell against the wall with her muscles trembling from exhaustion.

As the bathroom door slammed shut behind him she actually managed a shaky smile and thought, Who knew all it would take was me getting a stomach bug to get a little privacy? 

Then she was gripping her midsection as her guts roiled inside her again. She knew there was nothing left inside but the cramping sank deeper and deeper into her core. Evelyn grimaced and shut her eyes against it, hoping the worst was over for a little while.

***

She spent all night in the bathroom and Mickey didn't reappear for hours but he did bring her some cold Gatorade to sip on and she was grateful for it. He left her there next to the toilet and nodded at her word of thanks, saying nothing before leaving the sick-smelling room again.

She lay on the bathroom rug and covered her shivering body with a couple of beach towels, using another folded towel for a pillow, and slept for a long time. She dreamed crazy nonsensical things and muttered thickly in her sleep, only waking to vomit and groan and sip more (now tepid) Gatorade. She didn't remember much about her time in the bathroom beyond the horrible cramping pain and desperate voiding of her stomach that came every couple of hours like clockwork.

When she finally woke after that long, horrible period, she found that she was still on the floor but that she was now covered with a blanket rather than just towels and Mickey was nowhere to be found. She still had the handcuffs dangling from her right wrist but he hadn't bothered to attach it to anything. It's not like she'd have been able to get far with the pain doubling her over every five minutes or so.

Sitting up, she was surprised that her stomach finally felt like it was back to normal. She wondered what time it was or even what day it was. She didn't know how long she'd been in the bathroom, only that she'd been there for a long while. Time has very little meaning when someone is in the throes of sickness. 

Evelyn stood from the floor, still feeling weak and shaky but miles better than she had before. It seemed like she'd gotten rid of whatever had made her sick. She walked cautiously to the door and pressed her ear against it, listening hard. When she heard nothing other than her own shallow breathing, she reached her hand down and twisted the knob. 

The door opened and she immediately saw Mickey sitting outside the room in a metal folding chair, his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed and a beer sitting forgotten on the floor beside him. From the slow and even rise and fall of his chest, she knew that he was sleeping and almost cried in relief. He'd probably been there for hours, though, so if she was going to do something she probably didn't have a lot of time before he opened his eyes again. She could cry later when she had the luxury of time to do so.

Evelyn quickly stepped out and tiptoed past him with her bare feet, heading right and going for the den. Judging from the light streaming in through the window, she saw that it was early morning, just before the sun was up all the way. Already trying to work out some excuse in case he woke and found her, she slipped on her shoes and then an old, heavy fleece-lined coat she found hanging in a closet. She ducked out of the den long enough to peer around the hallway and see that he was still sitting in the same spot with his head tipped back and his chest going up and down.

Gearing up her nerves, knowing that no excuse would save her if he caught her now, she forced herself to walk slowly to the front door and pull the locks open. The last one, the deadbolt, squeaked just the tiniest bit as it slid back and she winced, growing deathly still and listening intently to see if he'd awaken.

When the house remained silent, she pulled open the door and stepped out into the first tentative rays of early morning sunshine, pulling the door shut quietly behind her. Jogging down the dirt path, she looked behind the house and saw the buildings far off in the distance near the long line of wind turbines, miles back.

Evelyn stretched for a moment and then went around the house, telling herself that it was probably the first place he'd look but it was better than wandering in the desert until she died of dehydration or from snake bite or whatever.

Still feeling hollow inside and weak, she began to jog toward the promising sign of the turbines. As the house fell behind her, she began to smile and tears formed in her eyes. Thanking God for her luck so far and hoping that it would hold for just a while longer, she was half a mile past now, then a mile. When she heard the sound of the Silverado's engine she looked behind her and saw the truck moving in her direction, following the dirt path she herself was on. Panicking, she ran off of the road, telling herself he hadn't seen her yet, he couldn't have seen her yet. The sun still wasn't very high in the sky and it had obscured his vision, or he'd been looking somewhere else; anything to keep the hope alive just a little longer. If he caught her now...

She went about forty steps away from the road and dropped to the ground, hiding behind a low bush with her face pressed to the sandy soil beneath her, her hands laced together behind her head. She heard the engine getting louder as it approached and tried to make herself as small as possible, keeping her legs and elbows tucked in, thinking, I'm just a rock. Don't pay any attention to me. The one you're looking for is far away now. Keep driving, you nasty fuck. Just keep driving.

The sound of the engine got closer and closer, swelling until it was so loud that she imagined it was pulling right up next to her, telling herself she should get up and run now. Run like she'd never run before in her life. But she was glued to the ground, trembling, praying desperately to a god that had ignored her the last two months, so afraid that she thought she might pee herself.

Then it was moving past, going further and further away until the sound was only a low mutter. She cautiously lifted her head and came up to a crouch, staying low but watching the truck's progress until it was no more than a tiny, winking speck of sunlight on chrome more than two miles away.

Evelyn shot to her feet again and ran back toward the house, ignoring the pins and needles feeling in her legs that had come from staying crouched for so long. She avoided the road and ran along in the sandy expanse of land beside it, jumping over shrubs and rocks or any other objects blocking her path. She kept the road in sight, however, and looked over her shoulder periodically to make sure that he wasn't returning yet.

She reached the house again, panting and her hair clinging to her head in a sweaty helmet. She tried the front door and it opened easily under her hand. She darted inside and slammed the door shut again, her hands fumbling with the locks until she had turned each of them. She ran through the hall until she was in the master bedroom and went immediately to her bug-out bag in the closet. She stuffed random clothes in and then threw it over one shoulder. She wanted to look for her gun but there wasn't time. If he came back too soon she would be completely fucked.

Evelyn ran back down the hall and into the living room, then past the dining room and into the kitchen. She flung the pantry door open and grabbed a few cans of food, not bothering to look at the labels, just grabbing as many as she could fit in the now extremely heavy bag. She went to the drawer beside the stove and grabbed the can opener, stuffing it into her bag as well. She was about to shut the drawer when she spied a butcher knife lying there. She grabbed it and held it in one trembling hand, slamming the drawer shut with her hip.

She headed back to the front hall and then ducked into the den. She peeked out of the window facing the driveway and her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw the Silverado pulling in. Dropping down below the window's line of sight, she abandoned her previous plan and ran in a crouch until she was back in the front hall. She heard the truck door slam and she ran down the hall until she was in the living room again.

She heard him trying the door knob of the front door and then she flinched as he shouted her name even though it was muffled. She headed for the sliding glass door as he kicked the front door for the first time. It wouldn't stop him for long, she knew, three or four good hard kicks and he'd be through.

Evelyn unlocked the sliding glass door and slid it open. She heard wood begin to crack as she closed it again and then turned to run. Flying past tool boxes and worktables, she ran for the archway leading to freedom. Her arms and legs pumping, she reached the doorway and ran through, out into an open expanse of land that would have been a backyard if there'd been any real need for fences or property lines. She heard him screaming her name inside the house as she ran for her life back toward the road she'd abandoned not long before.

She had only minutes before he realized she wasn't in the house any more. Maybe only seconds. She had to get far enough away to drop out of sight again. If she could avoid detection she would crawl through the desert if she had too, snakes be damned.

Evelyn ran for her life, her sickness the day before leaving her weakened and tired before she'd gone more than a few dozen steps. This was no jog she was attempting now, it was a full-tilt sprint and already she was flagging. His screams were growing fainter but she wasn't far enough away yet, there was no place to hide where he wouldn't immediately spot her.

Mickey's sudden scream of surprised rage let her know that he'd seen her and she knew he would catch her soon. She tried to run even faster and her legs tangled together. She hit the ground hard, her hands stuck out to catch her fall scraping and sliding along the ground and erasing about a foot of skin. Then her knee hit a rock and she tried to scream but the pain was too large. Her face hit another rock just above her right eyebrow and blood began to flow freely from her split skin. She finally came to a stop and could hear his pounding footfalls running up on her and she tried to regain her feet but knew that it was too late. He was much faster than she had been and would be on her soon enough.

She wondered if he would even give her enough time to beg for mercy. Not for her, but for her baby.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Luke POV)

~Luke~

Two weeks they'd been searching for her. Two long weeks in which they'd encountered only corpses and the infected who'd been strong enough or lucky enough to stay alive after so much time.

Hector hadn't complained but Luke knew he was ready to give up. They kept coming up on more and more nothing. Every time he thought they were close to something, it was only more of the same. No sign of either them or the Silverado.

Not long after arriving in San Angelo, they'd met a group of survivors in a little house on the outskirts of town. Luke hadn't even had a chance to step out of the truck before the people inside had shot at them and a man with a deep voice and a thick accent warned them to keep moving. Upon hearing the unfamiliar voice, Luke had been quick to do so, knowing that Mickey wouldn't have been eager to join a new group with a captive Evelyn in tow. If she was still alive, anyway...

He shook his head at the thought and kept driving, concentrating on the road and the surrounding desert. She was still alive. She had to be. Mickey wouldn't abduct her just to kill her and she was too smart to get herself killed. She would be obedient and accommodating to him, she would kiss his boots if he wanted; anything to keep herself alive. Wouldn't she?

"There's a house," Hector said, calling his attention to a little ranch house set back from the road a ways with one pointing finger. "I don't think we've checked that one yet."

"We haven't," Luke agreed.

Half an hour later and it was another dead end. There was a dead man in a bathtub with his brains splattered in big black chunks on the tile wall behind him and a .45 in his lap but no living people and certainly no Evelyn or Mickey. Luke took the gun though and searched the pantry to find a pretty decent stash of canned goods.

When Hector opened the fridge he said, "Hey, this place has power."

Luke tried a switch on the wall next to his head and bright light came on from the naked bulb over his head. 

"Imagine that," he said, smiling a little.

Where was the turbine providing power, though? There certainly hadn't been one out back and they hadn't seen any in the distance either. There must be a wind farm somewhere close by, he thought. A lot of the surrounding houses would probably have power.

They were back on the road after twenty minutes and came to another house ten minutes after that. This place was abandoned but it also had power, though no food or ammo or medicine. In the car again after less than thirty minutes, Luke spied the first electricity pylon. Then another and another. 

Feeling something stirring in his gut, some fluttering feeling, he followed the road running parallel to the long line of metal monstrosities. He followed it until it branched off to the west and he almost screamed in frustration, only feeling better again once he found a road leading that way.

"He wouldn't bring her out here to sit in the dark," he muttered under his breath. "He would've went where he knew there'd be power."

"What's that?" Hector asked, turning his homely face from the window to peer at him curiously.

"Nothing," Luke answered. "Just talking to myself."

"My Abuelita used to say that people who did that had money in the bank," Hector said, turning to look out the window again.

"What's an abble-eata? Isn't that a brand of hot chocolate mix?"

Hector made a pfft sound and laughed, "Abue-lita. It means granny."

Luke nodded and said, "Oh, okay, that makes sense. There was a picture of some old broad on the hot chocolate box." He cleared his throat. "Just keep your eyes peeled, huh?"

Hector nodded but didn't look away, "Will do."

As they drove on he felt that stirring feeling even stronger in his stomach and he tried to rein in his hope a bit. Luke knew it was probably the same false hope he'd been feeling off and on every day for two weeks but, as they continued to follow the long, drawn-out line of pylons, he couldn't tamp it down any more than he had on the previous occasions. Even though a part of him said that they were wasting their time, they were searching for ghosts, he couldn't squash it completely. They had to find her. They had to. He couldn't just wash his hands of her and declare it none of his concern. It was far too late for that.

But...what if Evelyn was still alive and didn't want to go back with them? What if she was happy out here in the middle of nowhere with Mickey? What if Luke was all wrong and Evelyn had gone with him willingly after all? He'd look like quite the fool trying to rescue someone who wasn't in need of it.

Frowning, his big hands gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly, Luke shook his head at the thought. She wouldn't have abandoned him (or the entire group) without telling them why, would she? She wouldn't have just said 'fuck it' on the spur of the moment and disappeared for two months. It was totally out of character for her. She was frightened and indisposed and she was too smart to trust someone like Mickey to take care of her when she knew deep down that he was an ultimately selfish and cowardly man. 

She was in trouble. Somewhere out here in all this empty nothing, she was in dire need of help.

"Hey, hey," Hector piped up, pointing out his window with with stubby finger. "There's a house. And look! Farther back. Do you see the windmills?"

Luke slowed the truck down and looked out the passenger window. Yes, he saw the house. A one story with beige siding and a little red car out front. He also saw the turbines in the distance even though the sun was going down now and the sunlight was rapidly weakening behind the clouds. One thing he noticed that Hector didn't, however, were the birds circling high above in the air just a little ways past the house. Big black buzzards who turned around and around almost lazily; gliding on strong drifts of wind like ugly little airplanes that reeked of death.

His frown deeper than ever, Luke turned onto the dirt road that would eventually take them to the little house. Now the fluttery feeling in his stomach had turned into twisting hands that gripped and pulled at his guts. Something was dead here, okay. That was no different than a hundred other houses they'd checked since arriving. It didn't mean anything. 

As they drew closer to the house, though, he spotted the door gaping wide open, obviously kicked in. A sharp pain almost made him double over now. He couldn't ever remember feeling this way...at least, not since that night at the hospital when his daughter Emma had been stillborn. When she'd come out of her mother blue and unbreathing...

Hector finally noticed the buzzards, "Something's dead out here. Something fresh."

Gritting his teeth, already feeling the tears trying to form behind his eyes, Luke said, "We'll check it out."

He pulled in behind the little red car, a Volvo parked underneath a tiny carport, and shut off the engine. Getting out, he readied his 1911 and waited for Hector to join him. As he moved toward the door he felt another stabbing pain of grief and saw that the broken wood of the frame looked quite fresh. This must've happened today or possibly the day before. They could be no more than six hours too late for whatever dramatic event had unfolded here.

Stepping inside, he resisted the urge to shout her name. They checked the house and everything he found inside looked as though it had been occupied recently. There was even a tipped over bottle of beer in the hallway and the patch of carpet next to it was still tacky.

Entering the master bedroom, Luke saw the rail that had been gouged and scraped almost bare over the weeks and thought he was going to be sick. Then Hector said, "Uh, Luke?"

Luke turned and saw Hector holding a pair of ripped pajama bottoms with a smiley face pattern on them. The exact same pajamas Evelyn had been wearing the night she'd disappeared.

Luke shoved past him and bolted through the house. Hector called his name in desperation but he ignored him. Luke ran down the hall and into a living room. He saw the open sliding glass door and ran through it, the tears flowing freely now, the sobs held back, aching madly in his chest. 

Continuing through an obviously hand built workroom attached to the house and then through an open archway leading out back, he ran so fast that he nearly stumbled twice. Coming out of the workroom, he ran straight ahead mindlessly; his long, strong legs pumping and the wind he generated from his rapid movement blowing his greying hair back from his forehead and temples. Maybe a hundred yards ahead he could see the crumpled form of a body lying in the dirt. Even in the dark and with the tears blurring his vision, he could see the white starfish shape of one unmoving hand.

Luke finally screamed her name in anguish, the cry ripping out of his chest and leaving him feeling hollow and cold inside. Leaving him wishing for the briefest moment that he were dead instead so that he wouldn't have to see this final brutality. This final kick in the nuts from a world that really wasn't worth fighting for anymore. Not now.


	40. Chapter 40

~Evelyn~

12 Hours Earlier

Evelyn tried to grab the knife again after she hit the ground and her fingers had just touched the hilt when she felt Mickey's hand tangle in her hair. He yanked hard enough to make her scream in surprised pain and her hands flew up to grab at his wrist in an effort to get free; clawing at his flesh even though she knew it would accomplish very little.

"You bitch!" He growled at her as he yanked her up onto her knees brutally. "I knew you'd try to run, you stupid fucking cunt!"

Still screaming, she continued to claw at his hand with her fingernails, "Let me go! Let me go, you sorry motherfucker!"

Mickey let out another roar of fury and yanked with all his might until she was forced onto her feet again. She could feel her hair tearing out at the roots under his twisting hand and the pain was excruciating. Involuntary tears began running down both of her filthy cheeks and she could feel her own rage rising up suddenly to meet his. She turned on her heel, crying out as more hair ripped out of her already aching scalp, and brought one foot up in a swift kick at his crotch.

Luckily it was a direct hit, a solid punt right between his open legs, and he let out a sick-sounding 'oof' noise as his hand finally untangled in her hair. He bent to grab at his wounded testicles and Evelyn spun back around as his eyes bulged in pain and he breathlessly gasped, "Oh, oh god! My fucking balls!"

Evelyn saw the knife lying in the dirt a few feet away and scrambled to snatch it up with one of her newly skinned hands. She whirled back around to face Mickey; her upper lip curled up away from her teeth in a sneer of pure hatred as her eyes fell upon him. He saw her coming at the last second and began to stand, bringing up his left forearm as she drove the knife down at him in a vicious overhand thrust. His arm deflected it and the blade sunk into the top of his shoulder rather than in the back of his neck as she'd intended.

He shrieked in agony as the blade sunk in halfway; only stopping when it hit bone. Evelyn tried to pull the knife back out but his other arm came up out of nowhere and his fist smashed into her mouth. She went flying backward, landing on her ass, and the momentum sent her head backward as well; hitting the thickest part of her skull hard enough on the ground to momentarily incapacitate her.

Mickey's shrieking went on and on and Evelyn lay there seeing stars for a moment, unable to do more than wriggle in the dirt as she tried to somehow gain her feet again. There was blood gushing down over her chin from her split lip and she swallowed some when it went in her mouth; coating her tongue with it's sickening coppery taste.

Still shrieking like a teakettle, Mickey dropped onto her prone form. She realized as his hands came down and wrapped tightly around her throat that he was actually saying words. Keening and whining and shrieking as she looked up into his mad green eyes, "Stabbed me! Oh you miserable fucking cunt, you stabbed me! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you for that!"

Then his thumbs jammed into her windpipe and he began to squeeze, cutting off her air immediately. For a few seconds she beat at his hands but it did nothing. Even with blood pouring out of his wound and the knife sticking out of his shoulder like some sick magician's trick, he was still incredibly strong; far too strong for her. She could see him clear as crystal over her, his lips skinned back from his teeth, those mad eyes staring down into hers. He was still screaming and cursing her, calling her a bitch, a whore and a cunt as he throttled her, and there was nothing but rage and hatred in his eyes. This was it. He was going to end her life as well as the life of her baby if she didn't do something soon.

Evelyn saw the black waves of impending death creeping up in her vision again and she stopped beating at his hands. Her face was burning, her eyes bulging, her tongue sticking out from between her split lips. She didn't have long before that blackness swallowed everything. It was so hard to think. It was easier to panic but, as she thought again of the child inside her, a sweeping coldness overtook her. She couldn't let it end like this, not after everything she'd been through. She wouldn't let him do this.

Evelyn stuck her hands out to either side of her and began running them through the dirt in a sweeping gesture, looking for something, anything. After a few endless moments in which the black waves grew larger and darker, finally her right hand touched something solid. A rock. It felt incredibly hard and was about the size of a baseball with a jagged edge at one end. 

She gripped it with panicked strength, ripping two fingernails against it's rough surface but not feeling a thing. She brought the jagged end of the rock up in a hard arc toward Mickey, not really aiming; just swinging blindly. She swung the rock with all of the waning strength she still possessed and happened to hit him right where the knife was sticking out of his shoulder.

Mickey screamed in fresh agony and released her to grab at his wound. Evelyn was coughing hard and gasping for air as she sat up but she couldn't let the pain slow her. If she did, that would be the end for certain. So, still coughing and choking on every gasping breath that tore into her lungs, she brought the rock at him again. This time her angle was better and she struck him in his face; right above his left eyebrow.

His skin split under the jagged edge and blood began to sheet down his face but she hit him again. Then again. He fell backward and she climbed on top of him; her legs straddling him on either side of his hips as if they were making love. She brought the rock down again and hit him in his screaming mouth, bashing his front teeth in. She saw blood and the little white flecks of his shattered teeth on his tongue and then she was bringing the rock down again and again so hard and fast that soon his face was only a broken ruin of what it once had been.

She sat back shaking, still straddling his hips, and still gasping for air with new bruises in the shape of Mickey's fingerprints standing out clearly on her throat. He lay there bleeding in the dirt under her and her muscles began to relax little by little. The rock tumbled from her limp fingers and rolled into the dirt; matted with blood and shreds of Mickey's skin.

Incredibly, he lifted one trembling hand toward her and she realized that he was still alive somehow. She saw one of his eyes staring up at her through a mask of blood and gore and his hand weakly gripped her shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint on the fleece-lined jacket she wore. 

"...E-evelyn...please..."

She held his gaze with her own and asked, "How many times did I ask you please? How many times did I beg you? It didn't stop you, did it? Nothing I said ever meant a fucking thing to you."

He spat out a mouthful of blood and tried again, "....I did- I didn't wa-want..."

"Yeah, I know. You didn't want to hurt me," she said with a nod, her voice ragged and scratchy; sounding like someone else. "But you did it anyway, didn't you? You just wouldn't let me go."

"....p-please...I'm sorry..."

The hope in his one good eye stirred nothing inside of her. No pity, no mercy, no hatred. Nothing. But she couldn't leave him like this. She couldn't take the chance.

"You're not sorry enough," she whispered and yanked the knife out of his shoulder with both hands.

Mickey's shrieking came back with renewed force as the blade came free and blood gushed from the wound. She plunged it into his chest and he was trying to knock her off but she pulled it out and plunged it in again. Then again and again. 

As his last scream died away in the morning air Evelyn looked into his one good eye and saw the life draining out of it. It was done. Mickey would never touch her again.

***

Evelyn left his corpse in the dirt and went inside to clean herself up. Then she packed everything she needed into the Silverado; food, water, the spare gas cans. She couldn't wait to leave and at around three that afternoon she was back on the road headed east. She didn't even spare a last glance at the little house she'd been held captive in for two months. She didn't care.

She was going home.


End file.
